Grantaire Grow Up
by kr424791
Summary: After a rough night, Enjolras finds himself wondering how Grantaire came to be the way he is, and Grantaire, reluctantly, finds himself telling his Apollo the entire story of how he grew up.
1. A Bad Day for Enjolras

Grantaire, Grow Up

A few opening comments: the usual disclaimer, I own the clothes on my back, and not much else (definitely not Les Mis).

I've been engrossing myself in Les Mis stories here lately, and decided to try my hand at writing my own. I have a general idea of where this is going, but its still somewhat open, so if you have comments or suggestions I'd be happy to hear them. I won't spoil too much of the plotline here though. The story will mainly center on Grantaire once it gets passed the opening chapters - how he grew up, a little of why he is the way he is, and so on. I'm indebted to a number of the stories I've read here for several of the ideas I am borrowing and incorporating here, so if something seems a little familiar, you probably have read it before somewhere ;)

Lastly, reviews, comments, thoughts, etc. are all welcomed. This is my first stab at a Les Mis fic, so I'm curious what others think about it. Happy reading!

Chapter 1: A Bad Day for Enjolras

Enjolras was not having a good day. Actually, that would be putting it very mildly. He had accidentally fallen asleep sometime late in the night (early in the morning?) while working on one of his trademark speeches. This was not altogether uncommon for him, but he'd also left the window open next to his desk. When he awoke, he discovered the cool morning air had left him with a very sore, scratchy throat, and that sleeping hunched over his desk had left his back and neck in a fair amount of pain. Things seemed to just go downhill from there. Before the morning was over he had added a sore foot (from accidentally kicking his desk) and a sore hand (from scalding it while trying to heat up some water to wash with). As he finally ventured out of his home and into the open streets of Paris, coughing, limping slightly to favor his injured foot, cradling his stinging hand while using the one he hadn't hurt to try to rub out the kinks in his neck, he began to wonder to himself if Bossuet's inevitable misfortune was beginning to spread.

As the day wore on, he began to give up hope that it might improve. On his way to class the bright clear skies became cloudy; and before he was halfway there it had begun to rain. Now he was sick, injured, wet, and worried the rain might damage his books and papers. He hurried through the rain as quickly as he could, arriving at the school with enough time to shake some of the water from his drenched clothing and dry off by the fire a bit before classes. Small victories, he told himself; some days you have to be grateful for the small victories.

Class began, and Enjolras took his customary seat hoping the day would go by quickly and that whatever ill-luck he was having would run out. It was not to be.

The professor walked in with a grave expression upon his face. "Class," he began, "I'm afraid I have some distressing news. It seems our friend General Lamarque may be coming down with some sort of illness. I'm told he collapsed during a session of Parliament yesterday afternoon and had to be taken to the hospital. He has been treated and was able to return home, but the doctors are unsure whether this might permanently affect his health. Only time will tell if he will fully recover and how long it will be before he is able to return to his work in the Parliament. In the meantime, some of the monarchists appear to already be planning to use his absence as a way to push through some laws and ideas that he would oppose on behalf of the people."

 _This is terrible,_ Enjolras thought to himself, _can this day get any worse?_ He managed to muddle through class, somewhat lost in thought. As the class drew to a close he contemplated whether he should just go home and back to bed; maybe he would wake up tomorrow and realize it had all just been a dream. _No,_ he said to himself, _I can't go home yet. We have a meeting of Les Amis this evening, and if nothing else they need to be told about General Lamarque. Maybe Combeferre can give a speech tonight instead of me. It will be short, and then as soon as we're done I can go home and be done with this terrible day._

Satisfied that he had come up with a reasonable course of action, Enjolras trudged out of the schoolyard into the muck and still falling rain, and forced himself to make his way towards the Café Musain on the other side of the city. _On the bright side, it can't get much worse than this, can it? Things are bound to improve once I'm with the others. Small victories._ With that a smile, the first he'd worn that day, began to take over the scowl on his face.

Meanwhile, Grantaire had locked himself in his small rooms, hard at work on his most recent project. Actually, he hadn't left the small apartment he called home for several days, he was too intent and absorbed by the painting he was working on. Grantaire's short life had not been an easy one, and the years of pain and misery had left him incredibly jaded and cynical, his only solace being the wine bottles he desperately drained day in and day out. But recently things had started to change for him. He was away from the things and people who had hurt him in the past, living on his own and attending art classes when he could sell enough of his work to pay for the privilege. He even had a group of people _(friends?)_ whom he spent time with and whose company he enjoyed. As he continued to work on his art he let his mind wander back.

It had happened quite by accident really. He had been wandering through the streets of Paris, looking for a suitable place to spend the evening getting drunk, when he wandered into the Café Musain feeling it was probably as good as any other. Or at least, since he hadn't darkened its doors yet, they wouldn't immediately kick him out, so he should be able to get enough of his beloved drink into his system to drown out the memories this evening. He had been steadily working his way through a bottle of wine when he heard an angel speak up from a table in the corner. When he turned around to glimpse the heavenly creature, he was stunned. It wasn't an angel who stood before a group of students seated around him; it was a god in human form.

Grantaire was smitten instantly. As he gazed upon the blond beauty, he found himself becoming more intoxicated by the presence of this young man than he had ever been by the fruit of the vine. He got up and wandered over to their corner of the café, anxious to listen to the message this god had for mere mortals like himself. As he sat down to listen, he eventually overcame the initial shock of seeing this revolutionary creature, and instead found himself focusing on the revolution this creature was talking about and planning. The others gathered around him hung on his every word, enamored by the speech. Grantaire, though extremely enamored with the speaker, found the speech itself to be a little less than satisfactory, full of promises of an impossible future that placed far too much trust in the people of Paris. _This will never work,_ he thought to himself.

"What do you mean it will never work?" Grantaire looked up sheepishly to see that all eyes, including the fiercely striking ice blue ones of the fascinating creature who'd spoken, were upon him. Grantaire gulped, then stammered out, "Sorry, I didn't actually mean to say that out loud." _I must be drunker than I thought, what is this man doing to me?_

"Nevertheless, you did say it. And I want to know why you think my plan will never work," the blond god retorted, eyes narrowing slightly. Grantaire tried valiantly to tell himself to shut up; but the combination of intoxications (from drink and the man in front of him) overwhelmed his sense of self-preservation, and so he continued on knowing he should stop with every word he spoke.

"You seem to mean well, and I do not doubt your passion for your cause. But I do doubt the people of Paris. They will be enraptured by your speeches, impressed as I am and your friends are. They will agree with you, they will say the system needs fixed and that the monarchy is to blame. And when the day comes, when you call the people of Paris to arms, when your barricade rises, you will find yourself standing in your graves on a lonely barricade at dawn, abandoned by the people you have placed too much trust in, whose fear of death will be stronger than their desire to fight alongside you. Your plan will never work because, at the end of the day, the people of France will choose to live their lives, meager and painful as they may be, over dying for the possibility of a better future."

Anyone who knows Enjolras knows he would never back down from a challenge, so as soon as Grantaire finished speaking all eyes turned to the revolutionary for his rebuttal. Enjolras stood stunned for just a moment before gathering himself back together and challenging the newcomer's statements. The argument lasted well into the night, as Enjolras refused to give up without first swaying the man to his side and Grantaire found himself unable to resist responding to the blond god every time he was asked to. No one else spoke, instead they simply sat listening in awe as the two went back and forth. As the night wore on, the argument didn't actually end. After a particularly devastating retort from Grantaire, Enjolras went off on a horrendously long tangent. As he spoke, Grantaire, tired from the day, semi-drunk from wine, completely intoxicated by the man in front of him, drifted off to sleep and, much to Enjolras' embarrassment, could not be roused awake when the blond had finally finished speaking.

"Well, I guess that's it then," Combeferre said after trying to wake up the snoring man sitting next to him.

"Aww, I don't want it to be over. This is fun!" Courfeyrac exclaimed from across the table, disappointment clear across his face.

"It most certainly is not over. I'm not finished yet. Courf, find out who he is and make sure he comes back to our next meeting, but without the wine bottle in hand if possible," Enjolras said, gathering his papers and things, "but for now, meeting adjourned. Until next time my friends."

Grantaire had been quite surprised when he woke up in an unfamiliar bed the next morning. He had been even more surprised to find himself being greeted warmly by one of the blond's friends, Courfeyrac, and being invited to return to the meetings of the little revolutionary group. At first he wanted to decline, but the idea of seeing the leader was a little too appealing, and when the time came he found himself returning to the café, but with wine in tow. _That was almost a year ago now,_ he thought with a smile. Enjolras had looked pleased to see him, displeased to see what he was drinking, but eager to continue where they had left off. And the routine began, one both men secretly enjoyed immensely. Enjolras still held hope he'd bring Grantaire around to his side, Grantaire still questioned and critiqued everything the god, whom he had decided to nickname Apollo during their second encounter, said and planned. And slowly, though he would admit it to no one, not even himself, Grantaire found himself believing in something for the first time in years. Not the cause, of course; he still believed the cause to be a lost one. But when he heard the passion in his Apollo's voice, when he saw the intensity radiating from the man/god during a speech or a debate, he couldn't help but wonder if Enjolras just might be able to do the impossible.

And he found friendship, comradery in the other members of Les Amis. He was still the cynic, but he had a reason to live that had been lacking from his days before that first chance encounter. He was enjoying himself, and working himself away from the drink that had held so much power in his life (though this was something else he didn't want to let anyone know just yet). When he stopped to think about it, he was happy; happier then he could ever remember being. He had found new inspiration, for both art and life, in this rugged band of misfits he now secretly called his family. And that inspiration, coupled with something Enjolras had said during their last meeting, was why he had been cooped up in his apartment, painting away for several days. It was time he let them all know how he felt about them, how much they meant to him.

Enjolras' mood had not improved much on the trip to the Café, his faint smile quickly faded when a passing carriage trundled through a giant puddle and covered him in mud. _I just want this day to end,_ he screamed inwardly as he stumbled into the Musain and looked around to see who was there. The place was all but deserted, just a few waterlogged customers huddled around the bar or the fireplace trying to warm up and dry off.

"You, my friend, are an absolute mess," a voice to his left said. As he turned he saw his closest ally, Combeferre, huddled in a corner with schoolbooks already strewn across a table. Unlike Enjolras, Combeferre had somehow managed to arrive at the café rather dry and mud free, the puddles around his feet being the only indication he had been outside.

"It has not been the best of days; this weather does not agree with me," Enjolras rasped, a slight cough coming out after he'd spoken.

"You sound like a mess as well. Come on, Musichetta is working this evening, I'm sure we can convince her to give you some hot water, soap, and a towel to get yourself cleaned up a bit," Combeferre continued as he marked the page he was reading and stood up, "and maybe some soup as well, I'm going to go out on a limb and say you probably haven't eaten yet today."

Enjolras simply shrugged in response. "I'll take that to mean, 'yes Combeferre, you are right as always. I really should learn to take better care of myself.'" To that Enjolras gave a small grin, and Combeferre let out a chuckle before dragging his friend over to the counter to get him the things he needed.

"And, since I know you won't ask me, I'll volunteer now to give this evening's speech. I actually have something in mind, so don't argue," Combeferre said sternly, glancing over at his friend as he opened his mouth, obviously about to protest.

"Alright, fine. Just this once I'll concede," was the response Enjolras gave instead, another small grin just barely visible under the mud on his face.

"Good. Now that that's settled, Musichetta!" Combeferre called to the back room, "we are in need of your assistance."

A moment later she stepped out of the backroom and began to make her way to the counter, but stopped and did a double take when she caught sight of the mud covered man next to Combeferre. "My, my! Is that you, Enjolras? If it wasn't for the few blond curls sticking out underneath all of that muck I wouldn't have recognized you. I'm guessing my summons is because you'd like some help returning to looking like a human rather than a child's mud pie."

"Yes please," was all the now thoroughly embarrassed man could say.

"And a bowl of your delicious soup too, Musichetta, if you can. Add it to my bill," Combeferre finished. "No objections, Enjolras," he added as his friend opened his mouth to protest once more, "even if you have money with you, 'Chetta isn't going to want to be paid with mud. You can pay me back later, when you are clean and dry."

With Enjolras effectively silenced, Musichetta led him to the back room she had stepped out of to help get Enjolras fed and looking presentable once more. Combeferre laughed a little at the predicament his best friend had gotten himself in, then returned to his table, setting his schoolbooks aside and pulling out instead some of their books for the revolution they were planning so he could prepare a speech to give when the rest arrive. He really did in fact have something in mind, though he knew it would not be anywhere close to what his friend could achieve. But it would do, it would get them thinking and planning; and, as long as Grantaire showed up, it would be sufficient to start a lively discussion. And Grantaire had better show up, because tonight was also supposed to be a bit of a surprise. Courfeyrac had somehow managed to discover that it was the cynic's birthday, and several of the Amis had taken it upon themselves to put together a party for their friend after the meeting this evening. Jehan was even baking a cake just for the occasion.

As Combeferre settled back down to work, he heard a crash from the backroom and Enjolras spluttering. _I guess he is still having trouble,_ he thought to himself. _Better get this finished while he is back there, I'll probably have to calm him down when he's done before the rest of the group get here. Poor Enjolras,_ he grinned ever so slightly at the thought before returning to his books and papers.


	2. A Worse Evening for Grantaire

Grantaire, Grow Up

Chapter 2: A Worse Evening for Grantaire

Combeferre was just putting the finishing touches on his notes for that evening's Les Amis meeting when Enjolras returned from the backroom. His hair was still an absolute mess, but now he was dripping water instead of mud. His face and clothes had been largely cleared of mud as well, so that was an improvement. He was still limping slightly, and moved stiffly to sit at Combeferre's table, soup bowl in hand. He mumbled something along the lines of "thanks" towards his friend as he began to eat.

"You're welcome, though I do wonder at times why I put up with you," Combeferre responded cheerily. Enjolras didn't quite see the humor in it however.

"Well, if I'm that much of a burden to you, then stop _putting up_ with me; I didn't ask for your help."

Combeferre groaned slightly. "Come on Enjolras, you know I was only teasing. You are not a burden; you're my best friend. It's only natural for me to worry about you." Enjolras seemed to relax a bit, so he continued. "I take it you must have had a fairly bad day; want to tell me about what's got you so on edge?"

"No," Enjolras replied flatly. Then looking up, he met Combeferre's eyes and gave a slight smile, "but I suppose you are going to force it out of me anyway." He sighed and leaned back in his seat before going on, "I woke up sore and not feeling well, I hurt my foot and hand before I left my apartment, I've been soaking wet from the rain since this morning, and I got drenched in mud on my way here."

"That certainly doesn't sound like fun. But I also know you are too level headed to be this upset by some minor inconveniences like those. What else happened?"

"General Lamarque is ill. He collapsed during Parliament yesterday and had to be taken to the hospital. He's home now, recovering, but it got me thinking. We've been Les Amis for a long time now; we talk about the time when we might have to take up arms and fight for our freedom. We talk of revolution. But we don't talk about when that will be. I think we see it as some distant thing, and that we will have all this time to plan and prepare. We think Lamarque will be there for years to come defending the rights of the people until we are ready to take his place and take our stand. But Lamarque is old; even if he fully recovers from this illness, he won't be around much longer. The time is near for us to do what we've been planning; and we aren't ready. All we have are a handful of friends and a closet of guns and ammunition. We aren't ready, but we need to be." Enjolras would have kept going, but his sore throat irritated him the more he talked, and he had to stop to try and stifle a cough.

"I see" Combeferre replied solemnly, pausing and looking lost in thought. He took his glasses off and rubbed his forehead before continuing. "Enjolras, my friend, you are right. We are not ready. Not yet. But, when the time comes, we will be. That is why we hold these meetings, is it not? That is why you give passionate speeches about the revolution and the future we will win for the people. That is why we strategize, why we plan. We will be ready, and when the time comes you will lead us to victory."

Enjolras did not look altogether swayed by what Combeferre said. After a moment he simply said "I hope you are right," before returning to his soup. As Combeferre thought about how best to respond, he was interrupted by Courfeyrac and Jehan walking into the café and calling him over to them. He left Enjolras to eat, and brood, in peace, and went to join his friends.

"How are you guys doing?" He asked with a smile.

"Great!" Courfeyrac replied, then lowering his voice he added, "is Grantaire here yet?"

Combeferre laughed, "Of course not, you know he never arrives early."

"Yeah, but you never know, "Courfeyrac said with a pout, "this is Grantaire we're talking about. He loves being unpredictable. I wouldn't put it past him to have found out about our surprise birthday party for him; and knowing him he would probably do something obnoxious just to make sure the surprise was on us instead."

"Ok, ok, I concede defeat," Combeferre said with a laugh, "but, as far as I know, he isn't here right now. So you are all clear. What did you bring?"

"Well, let's see," Courfeyrac began as he dug into the box he was carrying, "I have some decorations we can put up really quickly after our meeting, some special birthday candles, and, for the man who has everything, my gift is a bottle of Grantaire's favorite wine."

"I brought along a cake! I spent all day working on it; I think it turned out ok, or at least I hope so," Jehan added in his bright, lilting voice.

"I'm sure it will be as good as everything else you've made, Jehan. Musichetta already said we could keep our things in the back until we are ready for them. That's where my present is - I found a book on Greek mythology I think Grantaire will enjoy," Combeferre said. After a moment he added, "It would probably be best to not let Enjolras know though, especially about the wine. He's had a rough day and isn't in the greatest of moods."

"Aww, but the party was meant to get him to unwind and have a little fun too. He's too high strung," Courfeyrac goaned.

"I know, but he's not feeling well and I really don't think he would be able to enjoy himself tonight, even if he wanted to. It would probably be better to let him go home, and maybe save some of Jehan's cake for him."

"Alright, fine. But we're doing another party when it's Enjolras' birthday, and he has to come to that one," Courfeyrac pouted once more. Before Combeferre could respond Joly and Bahorel had entered the café as well, gifts and paraphernalia in tow. After greeting one another, they took their things into the back room for safe keeping before joining Enjolras at the table in the corner for their meeting.

After a few more minutes most of the Amis had arrived at the Café, stored their gifts or party supplies, and joined the growing group surrounding Enjolras, who was engrossed in some of the books Combeferre had left about revolution and was not paying much attention to clamor around him. It was not until the church bells struck the hour that he looked up and fully realized that all of his friends had already joined him at the table. Well, all of them except a certain cynic, who was apparently running late. Enjolras made a mental note of this, deciding he would have to have a few words with the man as soon as he arrived, and then called the meeting to order.

-o-

Grantaire was starting to get tired. He'd been working on his painting since he woke up early in the morning, barely pausing to grab something to eat or drink. _This must be what it feels like to be Enjolras,_ he thought to himself. _I think I'll stick to my own ways from now on,_ he added with a grin. He was quite pleased with how the artwork was turning out and growing excited about showing it to his friends. They all knew he was an artist, of course, but very few of them had ever actually seen any of his work. It wasn't that he didn't want to show it to them, it just hadn't really come up or been a good time. It wasn't often that anyone came to his home either, and usually his sketch book was the only thing he carried around with him. That, however, he was reluctant to show the Amis, since it was filled mostly with sketches of a blond revolutionary Grantaire happened to know. He wasn't sure how his friends would react to knowing Grantaire drew pictures of Enjolras all the time, and must also therefore think about Enjolras all the time. _No, it's better that they don't know that detail right now._

As he placed the finishing touches on his painting, he stepped back slightly to admire his handiwork. A sparkle came to his eye as he saw what he had achieved. It was a fairly large oil on canvas painting. At the bottom were several rows of people, all with their backs to the viewer and staring up at a raised dais that dominated the painting. Standing on the dais in a semicircle were all of the Amis, all connected to one another; some were holding hands, others had arms draped over the shoulder of the person next to them. Their semicircle surrounded the man in the absolute center of the painting, which, of course, was Enjolras. Grantaire had given Enjolras a bright glow so that he was the most vivid portion of the painting and where the eye was drawn first. The Amis, being so close to Enjolras and encircling him, were the next brightest. At the far left of the dais flew the French national flag, and on the right stood the all red flag of the revolution Enjolras had adopted. Behind them, towering above the dais, stood the Notre Dame Cathedral. And at the top, interwoven in the clouds, was the title of the painting, taken from one of Enjolras' recent speeches "At the Shrine of Friendship, Never Say Die." The painting exuded joy from the radiant expressions on the faces of Grantaire's friends. _This,_ he thought to himself, _is what Enjolras is fighting for: freedom, happiness, and peace._ And, though he still felt they would never succeed in winning a revolution, seeing it on canvas made Grantaire realize that, just maybe, it would be worth fighting for anyway. He believed in the man at the center of the painting, shining light upon the rest of the world. Perhaps that was all he would need. He leaned forward to add his signature _R_ at the bottom right corner, then stood once more lost in thought.

He only stood there for a few minutes before he was struck out of his reverie by the ringing of the church bells in the distance signaling the top of the hour.

"Oh no! I'm late," he exclaimed aloud, though no one else was there to answer, "Enjolras is going to kill me." He debated taking the painting with him; he wanted to show it off and see his friends reactions. But it was still damp in places and needed to dry some before he could take it anywhere without damaging it. _I'll just have to wait until next time,_ he thought to himself as he grabbed his coat and sketchpad on his way out the door. _At least it has stopped raining, I won't get wet on my way to the café._ He locked the door behind him and set off for the Musain at a run, hoping Enjolras would be in a relatively good mood today and not bite his head off for arriving late.

-o-

Twenty minutes later Grantaire had made it to the Café Musain. He paused outside the door to catch his breath and put himself back together before entering the café. His friends were easy enough to spot, and several turned and gave him a smile or waved as he made his way over to them. Grantaire was surprised to see that Combeferre was the one doing the talking. Enjolras was never late to a meeting, and he definitely was never absent for one. A closer examination revealed Enjolras was indeed present, but Grantaire could tell he wasn't quite himself. The mighty Apollo's complexion was a few shades whiter than normal, and he looked very tired, or sick, or both. Grantaire winced slightly at the thought, because it meant Enjolras was almost certainly already in a bad mood; the late arrival and minor interruption was probably not going to go over very well. He took the remaining empty seat as quietly as he could, taking his coat off to drape over the chair, laying aside his sketchbook, gratefully accepting the bottle of wine offered to him by Feuilly next to him, and tried his best to listen to what Combeferre had to say.

Combeferre finished his speech just a few minutes later, and sat back down, opening things up for discussion amongst the Amis. Grantaire sat in silence for a while, listening to what his friends had to say and trying not to draw attention to himself. He sipped at the wine a bit, and was soon asked his opinion on a matter Feuilly and Bahorel were debating next to him. He joined in with their discussion, and soon was caught up in the debate between the two enough that the next hour passed without his really noticing. Everything seemed to be going reasonably well, at least until Courfeyrac spoke up.

He, Combeferre, and Enjolras sat at the head of the table locked in intense debate. Enjolras, who had looked almost ghostly white when Grantaire arrived, had gone red in the face as the discussion between the three became more heated. Though several conversations had broken out after Combeferre's speech, most had died away as the participants listened to their three leaders going back and forth instead. Finally the only other conversation at the table was the one between Grantaire, Feuilly, and Bahorel at the other end. It was then that, without warning, Courfeyrac called down to the other of the table, "hey Grantaire, what do you think of all of this?"

Grantaire looked up from his own conversation and realized every eye was on him once again. Courfeyrac was grinning, clearly hoping to make things a little more interesting. Combeferre was shaking his head slightly, mouthing the words _don't do it_ silently. Enjolras had gone stone faced and impossible to read, though his cheeks were still rather flushed from what the three had been arguing about. Glancing between the three, Grantaire decided it would probably be a good idea to follow Combeferre's advice. "Um, I'm not really sure what you were talking about, so maybe it's best if I keep out of it."

"Well of course you don't know what we're talking about!" Enjolras exclaimed, temper obviously rising. All eyes shifted from Grantaire to the revolution leader and Combeferre let out a slight groan before grabbing Enjolras' arm in an attempt to calm him. It didn't work. "That's what happens when you decide to show up to an important meeting half way through. Maybe if you spent a little more time paying attention to what you are doing instead of the bottle you are drinking from you could actually contribute something worthwhile to our cause!"

"Enj…" Combeferre tried intervening again, but there was no stopping their leader once he got started. Everyone else looked on in increasing amounts of worry or, in Jehan and Joly's case, horror as Enjolras continued his tirade against Grantaire, rising to his feet to stand at the head of the table.

"No, Combeferre, don't try to stop me and don't try to defend him. Grantaire you are always doing things like this. You show up late, you get drunk if you aren't already when you arrive. All you ever offer is criticism and cynicism, neither of which are helpful. You don't believe in our cause. The time is coming when we are all going to have to decide which side we are on, where we stand. Lamarque is not going to be around forever and the mantle will fall to us. And I refuse to have some cowardly drunken fool ruining our revolution. I can't have someone on the barricades of freedom who doesn't believe in anything."

Grantaire by this point looked incredibly crestfallen and hurt. He refused to meet Enjolras' eye, instead looking straight down at the table while the other spoke. When Enjolras finished the room remained silent for a few moments before Grantaire mumbled a response.

"What was that winecask? I couldn't hear you," Enjolras said, his sore throat kicking in again and causing him to rasp slightly.

"I said," Grantaire began, looking up to meet Enjolras' gaze, "that I believe in you."

"Oh don't give me that. If you truly believed in me like you claim you would change. You would give up the alcohol, you would take up our cause with honor. But you haven't done either of those things. You are the same bumbling, stumbling fool who walked in here almost a year ago and started a debate. That's all you ever do, that's all you've ever been. I don't understand why you are here, why you keep coming back. For that matter, I don't understand what you are doing with your life. Our little lives don't mean a thing to the political tyrants of our land, but your life just simply does seem to mean anything at all. Your lack of belief means you have no purpose, no reason to live. Grantaire, you are just a child. You need to grow up!"

Grantaire was on his feet and at the opposite end of the table before anyone could register what happened. He grabbed Enjolras by the lapels of his shirt and shoved him up against the wall. Seething, he drew close to the blond man and half shouted at him, "don't ever say those words to me again! You know nothing about me!"

After his outburst Grantaire looked down and realized what he was doing. He quickly let go and backed away from Enjolras, who remained up against the wall stunned into silence. Grantaire looked from Enjolras to his friends at the table and back again, his expression switching from fury and anger to horror and finally sadness. Those towards the head of the table could see a few tears starting to form as he turned suddenly and ran for the door. Those at the foot of the table could hear a few muffled sobs as he passed them. Before anyone could say a word or react, he was gone, disappearing into the night.


	3. A Darker Night

Grantaire, Grow Up

Chapter 3: A Darker Night

The silence was deafening throughout the entire Café Musain. Even the customers who were not a part of the Amis meeting had gone quiet and still during the argument, and for a while the only sound to be heard was the rain that had once again begun falling and the ragged breathing of Enjolras in the corner. All of the Amis were too stunned by what had just happened to make a move, or too afraid of what might happen next to chance it.

Jehan was the first to break the silence. His eyes darted back and forth between Enjolras and the door Grantaire had just run through. After a few times of doing this without anything changing he crumpled, folding his arms on the table, laying his head on top of them. Muffled sobs could be heard from him, and his whole body shook. Joly was the next to move. He grabbed the wrist of Bossuet sitting next to him and began to check the other man's pulse while simultaneously trying to check his own forehead for a fever. He muttered something about stress and anxiety being bad for the heart in the process.

Courfeyrac stared at the point where Grantaire had disappeared, completely stunned. Eventually, he managed to choke out a few sentences, not addressed to anyone in particular. "He's coming back, right? This is all a joke, right? He found out about his birthday party and now he's playing a trick on us. Please tell me that's true."

At the mention of Grantaire's birthday everyone else went silent once more, as they realized the fuller impact of what had just happened. Courfeyrac kept rambling until he was suddenly interrupted by a loud smack next to him. All eyes were redirected towards Combeferre and Enjolras. Joly began to hyperventilate, believing himself to be hallucinating. The rest were simply stunned yet again. Combeferre had risen from his seat, taken two steps to reach Enjolras, who hadn't moved from the wall where Grantaire shoved him, and resolutely smacked his best friend and leader across the face.

Enjolras went wide eyed, his hand rising in slow motion to rub his now sore cheek. "Ow. Combeferre, what did you do that for?" He looked about ready to launch into another tirade, but he held himself back.

"I was just about to ask you the same question, Enjolras. What was all of that about?" Combeferre looked to be using every ounce of willpower to keep himself calm, and his voice came out very steely and slow, through clenched teeth. "I know you've had a bad day, and I know you're upset about General Lamarque's illness; but that is no excuse for how you just treated one of our friends."

Enjolras was immediately defensive. "What? I told him the truth. He has no business being here if he isn't going to take our work seriously. He shows up late, he gets drunk, he spouts out his negative, cynical comments without ever offering anything helpful…" Before he could continue, Feuilly cut him off.

"That's not entirely true Enjolras," he began. If everyone was stunned before, this took the cake. Feuilly had never interrupted their leader before. With everyone's undivided attention, he pressed on, "Grantaire was late because he was working on a project and lost track of time; he told Bahorel and me while we were talking. He wasn't trying to be disrespectful or anything. Actually, he had some good insight and helpful comments to make during our conversation. He also wasn't drunk. I couldn't smell any alcohol on his breath or clothes when he arrived, and this bottle he left on the table is the one I gave him when he first got here, and he's only drunk about half of it. That's not even close to what it takes to get him drunk."

The table lapsed into stunned silence once more; the idea of a sober, helpful Grantaire was something none of them had ever considered before, let alone encountered. At least, so they thought. Perhaps they misjudged their friend. That thought in particular sent Jehan collapsing in tears once again, which led to Joly moving over to check on him to make sure he didn't dehydrate from the loss of water through his tear ducts.

Enjolras eventually composed himself, and quickly returned to defending his actions, "Be that as it may, Grantaire being sober doesn't change the validity of the rest of what I said. With the exception of this one time, he is always drunk, cynical, unhelpful, and he does not take our revolution seriously. Like I said, he needs to find a purpose for his life…"

This time it was Combeferre's turn to cut him off. With a scoff, he said, "Enj, you didn't tell Grantaire he needs to find a purpose for his life. You told him he has no purpose in life and has no reason to live. You might as well have told him to run off and kill himself."

Combeferre trailed off at the end of his sentence, and the room fell silent once more. This time, though, it wasn't a stunned or shocked silence; it was one of horror and fear. Jehan lifted his head and turned towards Combeferre, tears flowing freely. With a sob, he choked out, "F-Ferre…you, you d-don't think he…he wouldn't…t-that's n-not why he r-ran…he's g-going to be ok, r-right?"

Combeferre removed his glasses, rubbed his forehead, and sighed before responding. "I think…I think it would be good if we found him and made sure he is alright." He glanced back at his best friend for a moment, then continued, "Eponine, Bahorel, Feuilly, and Bossuet; you four start searching the bars in the area. It's unlikely he'll go there, but it wouldn't hurt to check. Jehan and Marius, you two stay here in case he returns. Courf, search the alleyways in the area, see if he found a place and is trying to hide. Joly, you and I will check his apartment. After you are done searching your area, return here to check in."

At once commotion broke out as eight people got up to begin their assigned tasks. Combeferre turned to Enjolras while their friends gathered their things and left. His tone much softer this time, "Enjolras, perhaps it would be best if you went home. You are tired, not feeling well, and need to get some rest."

"No, Combeferre. I know what you are doing. You sent everyone out to keep them busy because you think Grantaire went home to harm himself. That's why you and Joly, the only two in our group with any medical training, will be going there. This…This is my fault, and I cannot go home and _rest_ knowing one of my friends may be in danger. I'm coming with you."

"Is that true, Ferre," Joly interjected, having joined the two in the corner, "are you certain Grantaire went home? And that he is going to do something bad?" Joly looked increasingly nervous at the thought.

"I'm not sure, but I think so. Look, we really don't have time to stand here and discuss this right now; we need to find out for sure. Enjolras, I'll say this once and then I'll be done. I do not think it is a good idea for you to come with us to Grantaire's home, but if you are going to be stubborn about it I'm not going to take the time to argue with you right now. But if you come with us, and we find him, you will have to do what Joly and I tell you, no questions asked." And then, without waiting for a reply, Combeferre quickly grabbed Joly's arm, spun him around, and began making his way towards the door. Enjolras waited a split second, indecision written on his face, before taking off at a brisk walk to catch up with the two, pausing for just a moment to grab the coat and sketchpad Grantaire had left behind.

Almost instantly, Marius found himself sitting alone at his friends' table, with only Jehan for company, who had quickly deteriorated into sobs once more. Marius looked around, still stunned by everything that had happened. "Empty chairs at empty tables," he murmured, almost silently to himself. "I hope all of my friends make it back safe and sound; I don't like the way this place looks when it is deserted." A particularly loud whimper came from Jehan a few seats down, which brought him out of his reverie. He looked at the other man, unsure of what he should do. When Jehan whimpered again Marius got up and went over to sit next to him, pulling him off the table so he could instead cry on Marius' shoulder. Unsure of what else to do, he simply held the man leaning against him, wrapped in an awkward embrace, and whispered softly "it will be alright; they'll find him and make sure nothing happens to him. He'll come back. It'll be alright." He was unsure if he was trying to comfort Jehan or himself; maybe both.


	4. The Search for Grantaire

Grantaire, Grow Up

A/N: Hey all, thanks for reading this far into the story! Let me know what you think so far if you get a moment. I will warn you now, though, after this chapter things are going to start taking a darker turn, so heads up for the future. If you have any suggestions, let me know. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: The Search for Grantainre

Eponine and Feuilly had gone north of the Café Musain in search of Grantaire, while Bossuet and Bahorel went south. The friends figured they could cover more ground by splitting up, but didn't want to send one another out completely on his, or her, own. For a while Eponine and Feuilly searched in silence, entering each bar they passed, glancing through the crowd of people, asking bartenders if Grantaire had come in, then leaving to continue the search. Eventually the silence became unbearable, and Eponine spoke up.

"Did you mean what you said?" She glanced over at Feuilly, who seemed lost in thought. When he didn't answer, she gave him a little shove, nearly toppling him over.

Feuilly righted himself, "Whoa! What was that for?"

"You were ignoring me," she said ruefully, "be grateful that's all I did."

"Sorry," he chuckled, knowing all too well what she could be capable of. "What did I miss?"

"I asked if you meant what you said." She paused before continuing, "About Grantaire, was he really sober?"

"Yeah. At least I think so. I didn't ask him about it or anything. Actually, I didn't really notice until Enjolras said something about it; it made me realize there weren't a pile of empty bottles at R's seat like normal. It surprised me."

"I think he's been trying to quit, or cutting back, or something like that."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm. It's been hard for him, I can tell. He's been drinking less at our meetings, sometimes it makes him a little extra emotional."

"I suppose. I guess I haven't paid too much attention. Why do you think he's quitting?"

"Wait, you don't know?" Eponine stopped walking and stared at Feuilly incredulously.

Feuilly, stopping as well a couple of paces in front of her, turned around, afraid he must have missed something. "What don't I know?"

Eponine laughed, "You don't know that R's in love!"

Now Feuilly was dumbfounded, "He is! Since when? Who has he fallen in love with?"

"Nope, not telling. You'll just have to figure it out on your own…Besides, he doesn't know I know about it. I think he wants to keep it secret."

"Why would he want to do that?"

Eponine paused again. "I think…I think he's afraid his feelings won't be returned. And if they aren't, I think it would hurt him too much. He would rather keep what he has than risk going for something greater and losing everything. And…I think he's got the right idea."

Feuilly gave a small, knowing smile at that. "Sometimes you have to take a risk though. If you don't, you'll end up losing everything anyway, but without ever having the possibility of getting the greater thing you hoped for."

"Maybe. Let's just find R and make sure he gets to have that opportunity," Eponine said quick;y, and the pair lapsed back into silence as they continued their search.

-o-

Meanwhile, Bossuet and Bahorel were searching the bars to the south of the Musain. Like their friends, they weren't having much luck. They came across quite a few drinking establishments filled to capacity, but they were all empty as far as the two Amis were concerned, and they mostly remained silent during their search. Eventually the silence became too much for them as well, and Bahorel broke it to ask about something that'd been bothering him since Grantaire left.

"Why do you think he did it?"

"Which him are you referring to?" Bossuet asked, accidentally stepping into a large puddle of rainwater on the street in the process. He shrugged at it and moved on.

"Grantaire. Enjolras. Either one. They were both acting so strange tonight."

"Well, Combeferre said Enjolras was having a bad day. I guess that would be where his temper came from, maybe. Uck!" Bossuet paused as he stepped in another puddle, this one of mud. He sighed briefly, then continued, feet squelching slightly with each step he took. "Grantaire was sober according to Feuilly, maybe he's suffering from withdrawal. I don't know. They get into arguments all the time, so it's not that unusual."

"Yeah, but not like this. Enjolras will argue about political views and things we should be doing for hours, but he never puts people down like that. Even if he was debating someone he hated he'd never do that. And Grantaire always let's stuff roll off of him, nothing ever bothers him. I don't get it, I feel like I'm missing something."

"Probably are, but that makes two of us," Bossuet said with a smile, which quickly turned to a grimace as he hit his head on a low hanging bar sign. "Hey, I think I found another bar. Let's check to see if he's here."

"He won't be. You know as well as I do that we aren't going to find him, not unless he wants to be found," Bahorel said with a sigh.

Bossuet frowned briefly before replying, "well, we definitely aren't going to find him if we give up looking. Maybe he's here, maybe he's not. But he has to be somewhere. If we look in enough places, he's bound to turn up eventually."

"Yeah, I guess…What happens if we are too late? What if we don't find him until after something has happened?"

Bossuet stopped, frown returning and becoming more pronounced. "I don't know Bahorel. I pray that doesn't happen. If it does, we should still be the ones to find him. He needs his friends, all of us, and we need to be there for him, wherever 'there' happens to be. And if we're too late, then it needs to be us who finds him and lays him to rest, rather than leaving him friendless and alone, lost and forgotten. He'll need us either way, so one of us has to find him either way."

Bahorel was a big man, and everyone knew he would never cry. He was in bar fights and street brawls all the time and would never shed a tear, no matter what pain or injury he endured. But at the thought of losing one of his friends, of finding his friend too bad off to be helped, his eyes began to water, and a single tear could be seen falling down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away and strolled into the bar. "You're right Bossuet, we shouldn't give up. R needs us."

-o-

Marius and Jehan sat in the café for several minutes. Unsure if he was doing the right thing to comfort his friend, Marius continued to hold the crying Jehan and wracked his mind for other ways to say "it's going to be ok." He awkwardly patted the poet on the back several times before patting his head instead to see if that would help. Jehan's long, fluffy hair reminded him a bit of the cat his grandfather's maid owned and adored, which made him wonder if petting Jehan would comfort him. It seemed kind of absurd to Marius, surely people and animals were not that similar. But since everything else he was doing hadn't worked, he decided to give it a try, and began running his fingers softly through the man's hair.

At first it didn't seem to work. He continued anyway as he struggled to think of another idea for what to do, but before he could come up with one Jehan began to calm down. Marius grinned, feeling he had finally done something right; and it had even been his own idea! As Jehan's crying ceased he moved in closer to Marius, snuggling into the younger man's side. That was completely unexpected, and Marius automatically recoiled slightly. Unfortunately, he was already on the edge of his chair, something he realized when, as he scooted back, he suddenly found himself no longer on the chair. The pair toppled over onto the floor with a thud, Marius lying flat on his back with Jehan on top of him.

"Ouch," was all he could think to say. As he looked at Jehan, who had rolled off Marius' chest and onto the floor, he noticed he seemed to be shaking slightly. _Great,_ Marius thought to himself, _he was just starting to calm down and I messed it up; now he's crying again, he might even be hurt. What am I going to do now?_

Before he could go on, Jehan brought him out of his little reverie by extending his hand and offering to help Marius up off the floor. When Marius looked up he realized Jehan wasn't crying, he was laughing.

"What's so funny?" he asked, taking the other man's hand and letting Jehan help him to his feet.

"Us. In case you didn't notice, we just fell out of our chairs," he said with a grin, wiping some of the tear stains from his face with his handkerchief.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that."

"Don't be, it was an accident." Jehan said, then paused, smile fading slightly, "thank you for staying with me."

"Oh, um, you're welcome. Combeferre asked me to…asked us to, I mean…to stay here and wait and see if Grantaire comes back, I mean."

Jehan laughed again as Marius stumbled over his words, "I know, but still. Thanks."

Marius debated for a moment before continuing, "Are you ok, now?"

The poet shrugged, "I don't know. I want Grantaire back. I don't like it when my friends are upset and hurting, and I don't like it when there's nothing I can do about it. There is so much Grantaire desires. He may be a cynic, but he's also a dreamer. I'm afraid that tonight life has killed the dream he dreamed. And Enjolras too, our fearless leader who talks of battles to be won and plans for a glorious future for the France he sees, yet he is too blind to see what is right in front of him, what he wants in his heart of hearts"

"What do you mean? What dream? What doesn't Enjolras see?" Marius was thoroughly confused.

Jehan went wide eyed, surprised at how oblivious he was. Perhaps Enjolras wasn't the only blind one in their group. Jehan wondered to himself if the others were like this too before answering diplomatically. "I'm not sure I should say. I haven't actually talked to either of them about it. If they want to keep things secret, I won't be the one to mess that up."

"Oh." Marius looked somewhat dejected. He was annoyed with himself for missing whatever it was Jehan saw.

"Marius, do you remember where the others went?" Jehan asked, glancing around the Café.

"Um, 'Ponine, Feuilly, Bahorel, and Bossuet are out searching the bars; Joly and Combeferre went to Grantaire's apartment. I'm not sure where Enjolras went, but he left with those two. And Courfeyrac is searching the alleys and streets around here."

"Courfeyrac is out there alone! I should go find him," Jehan said quickly, marching towards the door.

"But…Jehan wait, Combeferre said we should wait here!"

Jehan replied over his shoulder, never stopping. "Well, you can handle that, right? Besides, 'Chetta is here; she'll help you. I'll be back soon!" And he was gone, out the door and into the night to find his friend, or maybe to find his friends.

 _Great,_ Marius said to himself, _now I'm all alone. What am I supposed to do?_ He paused for a moment, thinking, then turned towards the back room, "Musichetta! I need your help!"

-o-

Courfeyrac was growing frantic, nearly hysterical, in his search of the streets and alleyways around the Musain. Each corner he turned he felt certain he would see Grantaire slumped over, huddled up, perhaps embarrassed by his tears but still alive and able to be comforted and brought back to the café. Each time he instead found another deserted alleyway, or a street where people were hurrying about their business anxious to get home, or a lady of the evening offering her wears. Occasionally he turned one of these corners and would see a man seated against the wall of a building, head in his hands, and Courfeyrac's heart would leap briefly with relief before he made his way to the man and found out he was only a beggar. Courf would mutter his apologies for disturbing the man, drop a coin in his hat, and return to his frantic search a little more devastated than before.

The final straw for Courfeyrac came shortly after he passed one of Grantaire's favorite taverns. On more than one night when there was no Amis meeting some of their friends would come here, at Grantaire's insistence, to drink, unwind, and have a good time. Courfeyrac had found the older man here before, passed out on the floor from letting too much wine go to his head. Courf knew Feuilly and Eponine would have already checked inside for their missing friend, but perhaps he would be around the nearby area.

An alleyway ran next to the building, connecting the main street to a secondary one that ran behind the tavern. As Courfeyrac turned the corner to walk down the alley, he saw a man lying face down about halfway along. It looked like the man had gotten drunk and passed out, and he was wearing the same color vest Grantaire always wore. Courfeyrac was elated, believing he had found his friend he ran up to the man and rolled him over onto his back. Elation turned to horror as he realized that, not only was this man not his lost companion, the man was dead.

Courfeyrac yelped and quickly recoiled away, scooting backwards until his back was up against the tavern wall. The sight of the dead man in the alley destroyed what little resolve Courfeyrac had left, and he burst into a flood of tears, curling his knees up and hugging them to his chest. _This is all my fault,_ he berated himself internally, _I pushed him, I pushed Enjolras when I shouldn't, and now Grantaire is lost. We're never going to find him or see him again. Or we'll find him after it's too late and he's dead. And it will be all my fault._

Courfeyrac stayed that way, sobbing and mumbling to himself, until someone sat down on the ground next to him and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder. He glanced up to see who it was, and found himself looking into the puffy eyes of Jehan.

"This man isn't him, you know," Jehan whispered as he drew his friend into a tighter embrace. "And this isn't how we will find him either. Grantaire will be ok."

"But..b-but," Courfeyrac started, tears still flowing, "we d-don't know…not for sure…and it is m-my fault. I s-started the argument, I d-dragged G-Grantaire into it. Whatever happens, i-it's my fault." Courfeyrac tried to pull away from Jehan and bury his head in his arms once more, but Jehan refused and held fast.

"That's not true and you know it. This isn't your fault Courf. Our friends are adults, and they both are responsible for their own actions. And…we will find Grantaire, and he will be ok."

"How…How can you be so sure? We don't even know why he ran, or where he went, or what was going through his head, or why he…"

"Shh my friend. Even the darkest night must end. The sun will rise again. Just like I know the rain must stop sometime, I know our friend will come back to us. And as difficult as the rain makes our lives for the moment but is needed to make the flowers grow, I think this difficulty with our friends is needed to help make something grow too."

Courfeyrac's tears had stopped and he gave a weak smile, "Jehan, I love you to pieces. But I have no idea what you are talking about."

"That's ok, Courf, doun't worry. You'll know when you see the flowers start to bloom," he said with a wink. Then standing, he stretched out his hand to his friend on the ground to pull him back up. "Let's keep searching; but this time you won't be alone."

Courfeyrac contemplated the poet's hand for a moment, then took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. "Right. I haven't gone this way yet." With that the two set off down the alley, arms linked together.

-o-

Enjolras was brooding, silently thinking about what had happened in the café as he followed his two friends. They too were silent, each dreading what they might find when they reached Grantaire's apartment. After a few minutes of brisk walking they turned down a road Enjolras had never been on before, which surprised him somewhat. There weren't many parts of Paris he had never set foot in, especially since he was constantly trying to recruit people to the cause. He knew neither Joly nor Combeferre were in the mood to talk with him, but he decided to broach the silence anyway and ask about it.

"Um, where exactly does Grantaire live?"

Combeferre faltered for a moment, looking like he was about to stop, before continuing on. Joly seemed to simply follow Combeferre's lead. Enjolras gave up hope they would answer him until, after another minute, Combeferre finally spoke over his shoulder at his friend. "I thought you had made it a point to know where all of the Amis lived, in case you found yourself in trouble and needing our help. And you make visits to all of our homes regularly to make sure we are keeping up with our duties for the cause. How do you not know where Grantaire lives?"

Now it was Enjolras' turn to falter in his step. The question caught him off guard, and he had to think about it for a few moments. "I don't know," he eventually said, "I guess I've never taken the time to find out." The thought made him somewhat dejected, as he began to reconsider how he thought about and treated the cynic of their group. "Grantaire has never seemed all that interested in the Revolution, so it never seemed like a good idea to talk with him about it one on one."

"Hmph, perhaps," was Combeferre's only response. Enjolras was slightly hurt by it. He didn't like being at odds with his best friend.

"Ferre, wait a moment," He said to Combeferre's back. When he got no response he tried again, "Ferre, please wait. It's important." It seemed like he was going to be ignored again. He was about to give up when Combeferre stopped all of a sudden and spun around, crossing his arms across his chest and stared at Enjolras. Joly stopped also, nervously glancing between the two.

"Ferre, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me; I guess this day has just really messed me up, and he frustrates me to no end sometimes. But that's no excuse either. I shouldn't have said those things to Grantaire. I'm sorry." He spoke to the ground, afraid to raise his head to meet eyes with his friend.

"I'm not the one you need to be apologizing to."

"I know. And I promise, the moment we find him I will apologize to Grantaire too. I want him back."

Combeferre softened at this. He knew Enjolras better than anyone. He understood both how hard it was for the blond revolutionary to say these things and how sincere he was in his regret. "I want him back too. I'm sorry I slapped you," he said with a short chuckle.

Enjolras looked back up and, seeing his friends' smile, he relaxed and rubbed his jaw slightly. "That really did hurt you know."

They set off once again, this time walking side by side. "Yeah, it wasn't intentional. But sometimes you do something stupid enough that I have to do something equally stupid to reign you back in. We might have to offer counseling to some of our friends though, I'm not sure they'll know how to react once they've had time to process it."

"I agree," Joly interjected, speaking up for the first time since they left the Café, "I swear I felt my heart stop for a moment when I saw what you did. I thought I was hallucinating for a moment. I should probably check for heart palpitations; a shock like that can cause an irregular heartbeat, which can lead to serious problems if left unchecked."

"Joly I'm sure your heart is fine. And I'm sure our friends are fine. Don't worry about it, "Combeferee said with a groan. He continued before the hypochondriac could start naming symptoms, "and to answer your question properly, Enj, Grantaire lives in this building here."

They entered the rundown apartment building silently, Combeferre leading the way up the stairs to the third floor. Arriving at Grantaire's door, Combeferre looked at both of his friends briefly, a grave expression on his face, before knocking. The door was not completely shut, so his knock pushed it open slightly. _That's not a good sign,_ Combeferre thought silently. He hesitated, took a deep breath, and then pushed the door open the rest of the way. He heard a gasp from Joly behind him, but it wasn't enough to prepare him for the sight that met his eyes in Grantaire's apartment.


	5. Grantaire Reaches, But He Falls

Grantaire, Grow Up

A/N: Alright everyone, here is where things really start to take off in this story. It's turning out to be a bit longer than I originally intended, so we'll see what happens with it. Please review and let me know if you are enjoying it, what you think, etc. And, just to warn you again, this chapter is pretty dark.

Chapter 5: Grantaire Reaches, But He Falls

 _Grantaire was on his feet and at the opposite end of the table before anyone could register what happened. He grabbed Enjolras by the lapels of his shirt and shoved him up against the wall. Seething, he drew close to the blond man and half shouted at him, "don't ever say those words to me again! You know nothing about me!"_

 _After his outburst Grantaire looked down and realized what he was doing. He quickly let go and backed away from Enjolras, who remained up against the wall stunned into silence. Grantaire looked from Enjolras to his friends at the table and back again, his expression switching from fury and anger to horror and finally sadness. Those towards the head of the table could see a few tears starting to form as he turned suddenly and ran for the door. Those at the foot of the table could hear a few muffled sobs as he passed them. Before anyone could say a word or react, he was gone, disappearing into the night._

-o-

A flurry of emotions hit Grantaire as he ran from the Café Musain into the night. None of them seemed to stick: he was horrified by what he had said and done to Enjolras, angry at his Apollo for what he'd said and angry at himself for how he reacted, he was terrified by what they all must think of him now, embarrassed by the tears they must have seen, sad by what this would mean for the future, hurt by the painful memories of the past flooding to the surface, tired, very tired, and confused by it all. _What happened?_ He thought to himself, _how did a day that was going so well reach this point? What did I do? How did I upset my Apollo so badly? Why am I so stupid?!_

He slowed to a stop outside one of his favorite taverns. He had lost count of how many nights he'd spent in here, drinking away to ease his pain and forget; waking up to find the night had passed him by. He stood in the street outside the door as a few raindrops fell, mingling with the tears running freely down his face. A part of him wanted desperately to go in, to drink until he couldn't think straight anymore, and forget this night had ever happened. " _If you truly believed in me like you claim you would change! You would give up the alcohol!"_ Enjolras' words echoed through his mind as though the revolutionary was there with him.

Grantaire turned his gaze from the tavern back in the direction he had come from, as though looking at the Café Musain (though it was too far away to actually be in view). _You are a visionary leader, Apollo,_ he thought, more tears falling, _but yet you see so little. You don't realize I am trying to quit drinking, I am trying to give up the alcohol. I want to change, for you. I am reaching, but I fall._

He took another forlorn look at the tavern before setting off again towards his home. The cold, wet night seemed to close in around him as he walked, and his thoughts turned to the others. Courfeyrac had been planning a surprise party, he knew, but now that was ruined. _Just like everything else you do, you always manage to ruin everything that's any good in your life._ His friends meant so much to him, more than he had realized. _But now I've ruined those friendships too. They won't want me around, not after what just happened. It wouldn't matter if they did. Enjolras is the leader, and he has spoken. I'm not welcome._

The thought nearly caused him to collapse there in the middle of the alley beside the tavern, but he kept on walking, further into the darkness, retreating towards the black hole of his home. " _Your life just simply does not seem to mean anything at all. Your lack of belief means you have no purpose, no reason to live._ " The words cut him deeply. How he wished for a bottle to ease the sting of them. _Maybe he is right. What purpose do I have for living? I am useless, I am worthless. The Amis are the only reason I've kept going. If they don't want me, then what's the point? What's the point of being here?_

He turned the corner onto the street that led to his apartment building, lost in the sea of thoughts and emotions churning in his head. It felt like a whirlpool to him, he was gazing into a whirlpool of his sin and being shown his every fault and flaw. And then those final words swam to the surface. " _Grantaire, you are just a child. You need to grow up!"_ The words that had caused his own outburst in response. Grantaire was ashamed of how he'd reacted, ashamed that he'd stormed up to Enjolras and yelled at him. His hands curled into fists convulsively as he saw himself grabbing the revolutionary's shirt and forcing him up against a wall. _How could you? How could you do such a thing? How stupid can you be? Apollo was wrong, you are worse than a child!_ The mortifying shame of this one thing alone was enough to mean he could never return; he could never face Enjolras again, not after what he'd done. _And he will never want to see you again anyway. You mean nothing to him, you are worthless to him. He will be better off without you._

He had reached his front door and reached out to unlock it. _"You need to grow up!"_ echoed through the empty halls around him. Enjolras' voice mixed with another, a voice from the past he feared more than any other. He spun around wildly, afraid that _he_ might be here somewhere, but quickly determined the halls were empty. Grantaire was alone. _Of course you are alone, why would anyone be here? You aren't worth the time to follow, you aren't worth the effort to find. Not even your own father would bother trying to find you. There's no reason to, just like there's no reason for you. You need to grow up!_

He walked slowly into his apartment, heart beating rapidly. He pushed the door closed behind him, not overly concerned that it didn't shut properly. _It'll just make it easier when someone does come looking. If they come…They won't come, no one will. They are better off without me, they don't need me, I mean nothing to them. They will soon forget about me, or wonder why they had spent so much time putting up with me in the first place. It was just a waste of time. He doesn't need me. He doesn't want me. I'm useless, I'm meaningless. And I can't grow up._ His tears had turned into outright sobs, and his vision began to cloud as his thoughts continued to pound through his head. Those words refused to go away; they were everywhere he went, following him into the night. He was reaching, but he falls.

He lit a few candles and stumbled into his tiny kitchen, reaching into a cabinet where we kept a few medicinal items, mostly at Joly's insistence. The small bottle he wanted was at the very back, so he had to reach quite a ways to get what he wanted. His hand closed on its quarry, and he carried it back to the main room without looking at it. He saw the painting in the corner he had spent the last several days working on. Just a few hours ago he had felt so proud at his accomplishment, he had wanted to show it to his friends. Now that felt like a lifetime ago, and the painting stood in the corner as a reminder of everything he had just lost. He stared at it, at Enjolras in the center surrounded by his friends, Les Amis, and he noticed for the first time that one was missing: Grantaire had not painted himself in the group. _I knew. I've always known. I don't really belong there, with them. I'm too different, I'm too cynical. I'm worthless, they don't need me, they are better off without me. And my painting proves it. They radiate joy, they are all complete, when they are without me. I can't grow up, and I can't fit in to this picture._

It was too much to bear, looking at the tribute he'd painted to the friends he had just lost. He reached out to grab the painting, for a moment intent on destroying it just as he'd destroyed his relationships with those he'd painted. But he stopped short. _They are whole without me, but I should not destroy them. The world needs them, it's only me who needs to not be here anymore._ He found his painter's smock, and flung it haphazardly across the painting to hide it from view, and then took a seat in a worn out chair underneath the only window in the place. He set the tiny bottle down on the table in front of him, contemplating it for several moments.

 _If I do this, there's no going back. I won't wake up from drinking this bottle. But that's for the best, isn't it? They don't need me, they don't want me. He doesn't want me. So what's the purpose of going on? "Your lack of belief means you have no purpose, no reason to live." Apollo is right, as always. I have no reason to live. And if I have no reason to live, then I shouldn't._ Grantaire reached for the bottle on the table with shaking hands. His resolve was wavering, he wasn't sure he wanted to go through with it. But he wasn't sure he wanted to _not_ go through with it either. Both choices were bad ones. He trembled as he pulled the cork out of the top of the bottle, nearly spilling some of the precious liquid inside in the process.

He brought the bottle slowly to his mouth, hesitating with every inch that it got closer. _This is a bad idea. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should wait and see what happens first. What if I'm wrong?_ The bottle was just inches from his lips as he paused, this new round of thoughts causing him to reconsider. Grantaire was the epitome of indecision in the moment, not sure if he should stop, if he should go on, if he should wait. And in the moment of indecision a memory came back to him. Only this time it was not Enjolras, but his father yelling at him. _"Grantaire, you are just a child. You need to grow up!"_ The memory was too painful; the idea that Enjolras and his father could ever say the same words proved it. He gulped, shutting his eyes for the briefest of moments to compose himself. _You need to grow up! You are a useless, worthless excuse and I don't need you!_ He opened his eyes quickly, brought the bottle to his mouth, and downed the whole thing in a one. The taste was horrible, but he knew it was only what he deserved. Soon it wouldn't matter anyway.

Once done a calm settled over him. His racing thoughts ceased, his shaking as well went away. He felt at peace. _It is finished now, all that's left is to wait for it to be complete._ He set the bottle down on the floor next to his chair, then reached for a piece of paper and pen lying on the table in front of him. _Maybe I'll have time to write a few last minute words._

He paused as he decided what he wanted to say, sitting on the edge of the chair and leaning over the table. The wording on this needed to be exactly right, or else it would not be worth the effort. He pursed his lips in concentration, and after a few agonizing moments he felt he'd come up with what needed to be written down. He dipped his pen in the ink bottle on the table and began to write, "To my Apollo. I said to you tonight that you know nothing about me. Before I go, there are a few things I want to tell you…"

Before he could go any further, his whole body suddenly convulsed. The pen went flying out of his hand and the table was overturned as he fell forward onto it before rolling off to hit the floor. His breathing was becoming labored and a sharp pain spread across his chest. _No, not yet! I need to finish my letter!_ He saw the paper lying on the floor a foot or two from his hand. He was reaching for it, but he had fallen. His strength was gone, and his arm fell limp to the floor. His eyes stared unblinking at the letter he would never finish. He would never be able to tell his Apollo the things he'd been too afraid to say. Apollo would never know. _Grantaire, you need to grow up!_ He had reached, but he fell.


	6. The Night Grows Darker

Grantaire, Grow Up

A/N: Another darker chapter, but we're getting through the worst of it here. As always, questions, comments, and suggestions are always welcome. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 6: The Night Grows Darker

" _Joly I'm sure your heart is fine. And I'm sure our friends are fine. Don't worry about it," Combefere said with a groan. He continued before the hypochondriac could start naming symptoms, "and to answer your question properly, Enj, Grantaire lives in this building here."_

 _They entered the rundown apartment building silently, Combeferre leading the way up the stairs to the third floor. Arriving at Grantaire's door, Combeferre looked at both of his friends briefly, a grave expression on his face, before knocking. The door was not completely shut, so his knock pushed it open slightly. That's not a good sign, Combeferre thought silently. He hesitated, took a deep breath, and then pushed the door open the rest of the way. He heard a gasp from Joly behind him, but it wasn't enough to prepare him for the sight that met his eyes in Grantaire's apartment._

-o-

The three friends stood in shocked and terrified silence at the doorway of Grantaire's apartment. The interior was a disaster, art supplies were everywhere, an ink bottle had smashed on the floor and was oozing its contents everywhere. The table meant to be in the center of the room had been overturned and now lay upside down in a corner. Papers had flown in several directions. But the mess was all incidental. In the middle of it all was the sight that truly scared the three at the door. Grantaire lay sprawled awkwardly across the floor, one arm reaching towards a piece of paper, the rest of his limbs going in odd directions. And he wasn't moving; he wasn't even blinking. _Is he dead,_ was the thought shared by the three companions, and they weren't sure they wanted to find out.

Eventually Joly worked up the courage to step around Combeferre and enter the room. He hurried over to Grantaire's side and began to check to see if was breathing and if his heart was still beating. The other two remained at the door with bated breath to hear what Joly's verdict would be. The process seemed to take forever, and both were close to giving up hope, when suddenly Joly turned around, panic-stricken, and cried out, "he's still alive! Ferre, come here and help figure out what happened!"

Combeferre was his side before the sentence was finished, and the two rolled Grantaire onto his back to begin examining him. Enjolras remained at the door, slumped against it slightly, unsure of what he should do and wanting to not cause any more harm. Joly began muttering, mostly to himself, as he worked, "no bullet wound, or gun around, so he didn't shoot himself…His skin is unmarked, so he didn't cut himself…His neck is fine, so it's not strangulation. What happened?"

"Could he have drank too much? Alcohol poisoning maybe?" Combeferre asked.

"Hmmm," was the only immediate reply as Joly bent closer to Grantaire's mouth to check something. After a few seconds he recoiled, crying out once more, "No! It's worse than that, he's actually poisoned himself! Ferre, hurry and find a basin or bucket of some kind. I'll get him into a sitting position." Combeferre raced into the tiny kitchen area to see what he could find as Joly set to work repositioning the man. He seemed to simultaneously grow more hysterical and resolute in what he was doing. As he was moving Grantaire, Joly noticed Enjolras still standing in the doorway, eyes wide open and mouth agape. "Enjolras!" he called loudly, bringing their leader back to his senses, "look around and see if you can find whatever it was Grantaire used to poison himself. I won't know what to give him to counteract it unless I know what I'm dealing with." Enjolras seemed to struggle comprehending what Joly had said, so he added, "hurry Enjolras!"

It finally clicked, and Enjolras darted into the little room and began scouring the area for whatever it might be that he would find. He wasn't entirely sure what he should be looking for, but he figured he'd know it when he saw it. Joly was too preoccupied to ask questions of at the moment. A moment later Combeferre ran back into the room, panting slightly. "I found an empty bucket, it should suffice." He said as he handed it to Joly.

"Good," was the response, "Ferre, you get behind him and hold him upright. I'll…I'll handle this part."

Combeferre didn't move right away. "Joly, I can do it, if you prefer.," he said kindly.

Joly thought for a second, "no Ferre, I can do this. I have to." Combeferre patted him on the shoulder slightly as he moved to take his position behind Grantaire to hold the limp man up. Joly began to fidget, clearly uncomfortable with what he was about to do. His hands shook slightly and he shut his eyes to try to gather up the courage needed. When he opened them again his eyes were still filled with terror, fear, but also a small steely resolve he hadn't had before. It was enough. With one hand he forced Grantaire's mouth open and hold it that way, and, after just a moment's hesitation, he extended two of the fingers on his other hand and drove them into the back of Grantaire's throat.

The effect was immediate. Enjolras had just discovered the unfinished letter Grantaire had been reaching for when he heard the retching sounds coming from behind him. He whipped around in time to witness Joly forcing Grantaire to vomit into the bucket Combeferre had just brought in from the kitchen. "What are you doing?" he shouted at his friends.

Joly looked about to vomit himself as he watched Grantaire reacting to his probing. Being unconscious, Grantaire had no control of where everything went, and consequently not all made it into the bucket. Joly convulsed slightly every time another speck of moisture touched him. Realizing he would not be able to reply, Combeferre answered Enjolras' question, still breathing heavily. "We have to get the poison out, or as much of it as we can, before it gets absorbed into his system. This is the only way."

Joly nodded silently as he steeled himself and thrust his fingers into the back of the cynic's throat again. Enjolras looked away, unable to bear witnessing the unfolding events. He turned instead back to the paper he had found. _"To my Apollo. I said to you tonight that you know nothing about me. Before I go, there are a few things I want to tell you…"_

For a moment, time seemed to stand still, as Enjolras' thoughts whirled around inside his head. He had realized on the way to Grantaire's apartment that he'd never actually given the drunkard much of his time. He enjoyed their debates well enough, but that was his only real interaction with the man. With all of the rest of Les Amis he had spent an enormous amount of time working and talking, forming friendships as well as planning a revolution. But Grantaire had been all but left out. He was right, Enjolras didn't know anything about the dying man a few feet away. And, for some reason, that upset him. _I should not have ignored him. I should have treated him as an equal, like I would any other. Why have I avoided him?_

That was a dangerous question to ask, a topic he did not want to dive into right then. Especially not with the object of the question so close by and in such danger. Enjolras set the letter aside, resolving to ask Grantaire about it at the earliest opportunity, and then set about continuing the search for whatever poison had been used. The sounds of Grantaire being forced to throw up eroded at Enjolras' mind, and he found himself hurting more and more inside with each new round.

He stood suddenly, as he found himself in the back corner of the room in front of a painter's easel. There was a painting set up on it, by the looks of it, but a smock was covering it. Enjolras pulled the garment off the painting, and gasped aloud.

"What did you find?" Combeferre called over, hearing his best friend's sharp intake of breath.

Enjolras didn't respond right away; he was mesmerized by the work of art in front of him. The painting of their friends, with himself in the center, was astounding. His eyes raked the canvas, absorbing every detail. They moved to the top, where he saw the words interwoven in the clouds, "at the shrine of friendship, never say die." They were his own words, from a speech he'd given several weeks ago. At the time Grantaire had seemed absorbed in his sketchbook; Enjolras' had had no idea the cynic was even paying attention, much less drawing inspiration.

"Enjolras, did you find the poison?" Combeferre tried again.

He finally came back to reality. "No, sorry. I found a painting."

"Enj, you can admire Grantaire's artwork later. Right now we need to figure out what he used to get himself this way." Combeferre groaned slightly as he shifted the man's weight to get a better hold on him.

"Right," Enjolras replied, tearing his eyes away from the painting. They turned instead to the coat and sketchbook he'd carried from the café, currently lying in the doorway where he'd dropped them earlier. A large part of Enjolras wanted to grab the book and flip through its pages to see what else Grantaire had come up with, but the rational part of him knew this wasn't the time. He went back to crawling around on the floor, searching.

As Grantaire retched again, more loudly than before, Enjolras finally found what he was looking for. A small, green bottle had rolled underneath the old armchair under the window. He got down on his stomach and reached for it, hand finally closing on the elusive thing. He quickly pulled it out and handed it to Combeferre.

Combeferre shifted the man in his arms again in order to free a hand and take the bottle from his friend. He looked at it briefly before paling even further. "Umm, Joly, take a look at this," was all he could manage to say.

Joly was a mess by this point, but he paused for a moment in his working to look at the bottle. His eyes showed an extreme hurt when he read the contents, and tears began to fall. "Grantaire, how could you?" Part of him wanted to punch the man he was trying to keep from dying, another part wanted to just curl up and cry. The indecision was evident to the others as well.

"Joly, what is it?" Enjolras asked.

Joly once more closed his eyes, only to open them with a steely resolve. "I gave this to Grantaire. It was supposed to be medicine to help him sleep. And I gave him very specific instructions to go with it. I shouldn't have; if I had known this is what he'd do with it…" He trailed off without finished his sentence.

"Do you have something with you to counteract it?" Combeferre asked gently, trying to bring Joly back around.

Joly thought for a moment, before turning to Enjolras. "In my medical bag, over by the door, there is a little red bottle without a label on it." Enjolras was on his feet instantly. Joly had barely finished the sentence before the bottle in question was brought to him.

"Alright. Ferre, lean him back a bit, and hold his nose." Combeferre did as he was asked, getting the man in position as Joly uncorked the bottle. He smelled it once first, to check its potency, before unceremoniously dumping the whole contents of the bottle down Grantaire's throat. With that done, he leaned back against the wall, his shaking and tears returning.

Combeferre rested Grantaire against the chair and crawled out from underneath him. He checked to make sure the cynic's heart and breathing rate grew steady, and, satisfied, he turned to the medical student. Joly was a mess, and much the worse for wear. He now was staring at his arms, covered in vomit, and shaking almost uncontrollably. Combeferre decided it would be best to intervene before the hypochondria set in too much. "Come on Joly," he said as gently as possible, reaching a hand out to his friend to help him up, "I saw Grantaire has a wash basin and some soap in the kitchen. Let's get you cleaned up." Joly nearly jumped up in response, and the two quickly retreated to the kitchen.

All of a sudden, Enjolras found himself alone in the room with the unconscious Grantaire. He had no idea what he should do, if he should do anything, and so he sat in silence, contemplating what had just happened. After a few moments, he stood back up, turning away from his friend on the floor to stare once more at his friends on the painted canvas. The realism was uncanny, each Amis member's personality seemed to come through the painting. And they all seemed happier than he could ever remember having seen them. _It is our victory,_ he thought to himself, _Grantaire has painted what it will be like when our revolution has succeeded._ This thought brought the first smile to his face he'd had since before the meeting began that evening. It made sense to him, this idea. With that as his new filter, he scanned their faces once more to see how Grantaire had pictured each of their friends reacting on that day, and he found himself laughing slightly at their expressions. _It's exactly how I'd picture it too,_ he thought to himself, _though without me in the center. I should be part of the rest of the group. I wonder how Grantaire thinks he will respond on that day._ He set about scouring the painting once more to find the cynic, but after a few thorough examinations he was forced to conclude Grantaire was not in the painting. _I wonder why he left himself out._

Enjolras' thoughts were rudely interrupted by a shout from the front door. He turned around to see what was happening now as Combeferre came running out of the kitchen with a soaking wet Joly close behind.


	7. The Night Ends at Last

Grantaire, Grow Up

Chapter 7: The Night Ends at Last

 _Enjolras' thoughts were rudely interrupted by a shout from the front door. He turned around to see what was happening now as Combeferre came running out of the kitchen with a soaking wet Joly close behind._

-o-

In the doorway to Grantaire's apartment stood Jehan and Courfeyrac. Jehan stood still, turning white as a ghost, a few silent tears running down his face. Courfeyrac, on the other hand, had completely fallen apart at the sight of Grantaire lying limp against the chair. He had let out an ear-piercing cry and collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably as Combeferre and Joly ran back into the room. He spoke as well, but through the sobs the only words the others could make out were "dead" and "all my fault."

Enjolras had no idea what to do, something that seemed to be becoming more frequent, and he didn't like it. His sore throat had returned as well, and he suddenly found himself wanting to retreat to his own home, and bed. Joly was a mess, soaking wet from trying to clean himself off from his medical procedure to keep Grantaire alive and still visibly shaking. Combeferre looked between the two of them and, deciding it would be up to him to quell this newest crisis, walked over to Courfeyrac, sat down next to him, and drew him in close. Jehan remained unmoving, turning yet whiter.

"Courf…" Combeferre said softly, "Courf, please listen to me. He's not dead…Courf, he's going to be ok, we got here in time…He's just asleep…please calm down, you're going to make yourself sick…" This went on for some time, the message not getting through to the upset man. It did click with Jehan, however, who sighed with relief before collapsing on the floor next to his friends.

"Do you mean it, Ferre? Is he really going to be ok?" He asked, his face a mix of apprehension and hope.

Combeferre hesitated just a moment before replying. "Yes, it will take some time, but he should make a full recovery." He glanced back at Joly briefly before continuing to try to calm Courfeyrac down.

Jehan burst into a wide smile, the relief returning him to his natural overly happy state. He took over Combeferre's attempts at calming their friend, grabbing Courfeyrac's face and forcing him to make eye contact. "Courfeyrac, I told you back in the alley, Grantaire would be ok. This night is ending and the sun is rising once more. Our friend is safe and he will be well again. And this isn't your fault." He completed his assessment with growing firmness.

Courfeyrac stared into the poet's eyes for a few moments, letting his words sink in. When they finally did, a small smile appeared on his face, before it became buried in the younger man's chest as Courfeyrac all but threw himself onto Jehan's chest in a tight embrace. Jehan fell backwards, again, with Courfeyrac on top of him, but quickly returned the hug nevertheless.

Feeling his friends would be fine now, Combeferre turned his attention to the others in the room. Joly had disappeared during the ordeal in the doorway, presumably to return to scrubbing himself with every speck of soap available in the kitchen. Neither Enjolras nor Grantaire had moved, the latter still slumped awkwardly against the chair and the former standing unwavering near the painting in the corner.

"Enjolras," he said after contemplating a bit, "come here and help me move Grantaire to his bed." Enjolras was again slow on the uptake, but after watching Combeferre get up from the doorway floor and walk over to Grantaire it finally clicked. He glanced back at the painting one more time before moving over to help his friend move the painting's creator to a more comfortable location. Grantaire was lighter than he had expected, and moving him proved rather easy. He was a mess though, pale white with bags around his eyes, vomit covered in places, and very cold.

"Let's try to get him cleaned up some as well, and changed into some clothes that aren't soaking wet from the rain and filthy from everything that has gone on here," Combeferre said as he began to leave the room, "I'll grab some soap and water from the kitchen, why don't you start to get him undressed."

Enjorlas tensed at the thought. He wanted to object, but before he could get the words out, Combeferre had already disappeared, and he was once again alone with the object of his newfound…with Grantaire. He gulped as he turned away from the bedroom door back to where Grantaire lay on the bed. _I can do this,_ he told himself, _it's no big deal really. Besides, it's just Grantaire, why am I so concerned? I'm just shaken up from everything that's gone on today. It has been enough to upset anyone; there's nothing else going on. There's nothing more to it than that. It's just Grantaire._

Combeferre returned, dish of water, soap, and towel in hand, and was quite surprised to see Enjolras still standing where he had left him. He set his things down and turned to place a hand on his leader's shoulder. "Enj, are you alright?"

Enjolras jumped slightly at the touch, then turned to meet his friend's gaze. "I'm fine."

"Really, Enj? You don't seem fine." Combeferre replied with raised eyebrows.

Enjolras hesitated a moment, then conceded, "ok, I'm not fine. Do you blame me?"

"No, I don't," he replied, returning to his supplies and moving to begin cleaning their friend, "To be honest, I am more afraid than I have ever been in my life." He paused, and Enjolras regarded him closely, clearly surprised by his statement. "For a moment there I thought we had lost our friend, and I was terrified by the thought. You give Grantaire little credit, but he means a lot to us, to all of us. Even you, whether you'll admit to it or not." This last sentence he said glancing back up at the blond revolutionary, a smile and a slight wink coinciding with it.

Enjolras was back on the defensive at that, "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Combeferre chuckled before returning to his work. "I'm sure you know. Or if you don't, you will in time. You are here; for now, you have to at least admit that there was a reason you came here, after I specifically told you to go home instead. And that reason, if I may be so bold, is currently lying unconscious on this bed."

Enjolras was stunned, unsure of what to say in response. So he said nothing, choosing instead to stand silently watching his best friend tend to the man who, before tonight, he'd never paid much attention to or given a second thought to.

"Perhaps I've been too bold," Combeferre said after a few moments of silence, looking up again at his friend, "contrary to popular belief, I can't read your mind. Maybe you need time to sort things out and collect your thoughts?"

Enjolras hesitated again, something else he rarely did but which seemed to be becoming a regular occurrence, before nodding in return, just once.

Combeferre sighed, returning once more to his work, "well, you will have it. Joly finally calmed down enough to speak, and he says Grantaire will be unconscious for two or three days. We've decided to take turns tending to him. In the meantime, you can sort out whatever is going on inside your head. I won't press you any more about it…But if you decide you want to talk about it, you know where to find me." With that, he placed his bowl of now dirty water aside and stood up. "Now, will you help me get Grantaire changed into some clean clothes and placed properly in bed?"

Enjolras tensed once more, then nodded, again only once, before moving to help his friend. _What am I going to do now?_ He thought.

-o-

Joly had nearly scrubbed his hands and arms raw in the attempt to clean himself off before he finally deemed himself germ free. He left the kitchen and moved back into the main room. At first he was shocked to see Grantaire was no longer lying on the floor, but after a few seconds his memory caught up with him and he vaguely recalled Combeferre talking to him while he was frantically washing his upper body. Courfeyrac had finally calmed down, or at least he was no longer crying. He was still half attached to Jehan, but the two had been able to move to a sitting position once again. Jehan alone seemed to be somewhat relaxed, leaning against the wall behind him while his friend leaned on him for support, in more ways than one.

"How is he?" Joly asked when Jehan noticed him enter the room.

"He'll be ok. It's hard to see a friend so hurt," Jehan replied.

Joly was unsure if that last sentence was meant to describe Courfeyrac, Jehan, himself, or the others, but, figuring it would probably work with any, he didn't ask. "How are you doing?" was the question he asked instead.

Jehan paused a moment before replying. "I'll be ok too. It's been a rough night for all of us I think. It'll be good to see the sun rise once more and bring light to our darkness. What about you?"

It was Joly's turn to pause. Instead of answering right away, he moved over to sit down next to his friends. "I'm not sure. I knew it would probably be bad when we came here, but I wasn't expecting this. I'm not sure what to make of it."

"What happened?" Jehan asked, eyes growing wide with concern.

Joly debated internally whether or not he should tell his friend the details. Finally, he decided if they were going to help Grantaire, they'd need to know, all of them. And Grantaire would need all of their help to recover. "He poisoned himself, with medicine I had given him. We almost didn't make it in time, if we'd been a few minutes later I don't think we could have saved him. As it was I still almost lost him when I was…getting the medicine, poison, out of his system. Thankfully I had something with me that would balance it out, so he should recover with no lasting problems." He paused again, a single tear beginning to form, "I don't know what I would have done if my medicine had killed him. It would have been all my fault…"

Courfeyrac had looked up as he listened to Joly's description, but he cut him off at this point before the medical student could continue. "It's not your fault Joly, and it wouldn't have been if things had turned out differently," He said defiantly, "I'm the one who started this, I pushed both of them to argue. It's my fault."

Jehan groaned, "Courf, Joly, stop this. Neither of you are to blame, and you both know it. If he didn't have your medicine, he would have found some other way. And if you hadn't started their argument it would have erupted on its own anyway, they were both out of sorts this evening. Be grateful things unfolded in a way that could be fixed. The argument could have happened after we were all gone, and no one would have known to look for Grantaire and help. And he could have come back and used something you weren't able to heal. This has been a dark night for Les Amis, but it could have been much worse." He finished with a huff, looking back and forth between his two friends.

"Jehan is right," Combeferre said, reentering the room. "This night could have gone in so many different directions. Let's be grateful that we have gotten it under control."

Courfeyrac and Joly made eye contact with one another, agreement passing between them, before both turned to Combeferre and nodded their approval.

"So what do we do now?" Courfeyrac asked, straightening up so he was sitting properly instead of half-lying on his friend's lap. "What's our next step?"

Combeferre thought for a moment, before answering. "Joly and I will take turns watching over Grantaire. He will need some medical care as he recovers, and he definitely should not be left alone until we figure out what is going on with him. The rest of the Amis need to be told what all has happened as well; my guess is they are probably all back at the Musain by now, waiting for us to return."

"Courf and I can go talk to them," Jehan said cheerfully, nudging his friend in the side. "But they'll want to come and see for themselves that he is alright, you know."

"Yeah. It's ok if they stop by, but tell them he'll be unconscious for few days. When he does wake up Joly and I will need to talk with him first before we can let anyone else see him."

"I'll pass the message along," Jehan said, before standing and reaching his hand out to help Courfeyrac up off the ground.

"Ferre, you're sure he's ok?" Courfeyrac asked after getting up.

"I'm positive Courf. Grantaire will live." Combeferre's reply gave Courfeyrac the resolve he needed to follow Jehan out the door and back to the Musain. After they had left, Combeferre turned to Joly, who was still seated on the floor. "Why don't you head home, my friend. I can take first watch."

"Are you sure? I can stay too, just in case something happens. He might have a negative reaction to the medicine. Or there might be unforeseen complications from the vomiting. Or…"

"Joly, stop. We got it under control. He's going to be fine. He just needs rest now, and so do you. I can handle it. Go home, get some sleep, and then when you come back tomorrow you can bring along all the supplies we will need for the next few days."

Joly wavered, clearly wanting to bring up some more objections, but he faltered under Combeferre's gaze. "Alright, I'll make out a list of everything we need before I go to bed. If there's any change send for me immediately. I'll leave my medical bag here with you too, just in case. I know I've left some other supplies around here somewhere, but I don't know where Grantaire's put them…"

"Thank you, Joly. I will see you tomorrow. Now go home and get some rest."

"Yes, alright. Ferre, take care of him, won't you?"

"I will, I promise." With that, Joly stood and, after just a moment's hesitation, also left.

"And what would you have me do?" Enjolras asked quietly, stepping out of the doorway behind Combeferre where he'd been standing while this conversation went on.

Combeferre turned around to look at his friend, appraising him for the first time since he'd entered the café dripping mud several hours ago. "You look like you could use a good night's rest yourself. I think you should take my advice from earlier and go home."

"But what if…" Enjolras started, but he was quickly cut off.

"No way, Enjolras. If I needed help, I would have asked Joly to stay behind. I can handle this on my own for now. I'm sure you heard Jehan, the others will want to stop in and see for themselves that Grantaire is ok, so I'm sure I won't be alone for long. You said earlier you weren't feeling well, and you certainly look unwell," he said sternly. Enjolras looked slightly hurt by the chastisement, and Combeferre softened before adding, "I know you mean well my friend. But you won't be helping anyone if you get sick too. Go home, get some sleep, and come back tomorrow to check on him if you're that concerned about him. I promise you, everything will be fine. Trust me. Small victories, remember?"

"Small victories; it's how the war is won," Enjolras said, smiling slightly. "Ok, I'm going. But I'm coming back first thing in the morning to check on both of you. We need every man if our revolution is going to succeed, and you look like you could use a good night's sleep as well."

"I concede defeat, my liege," Combeferre said, laughing. Enjolras simply shook his head at the comment before walking out the door as well, shutting it behind him and leaving his best friend alone to care for his…for Grantaire.

Combeferre waited a moment to make sure everyone was truly gone, before returning to the bedroom to check on his unconscious patient. Satisfied Grantaire was still doing well, he returned to the main room and set about trying to put it back into some semblance of order. He made a fair amount of progress, getting much of the mess cleared up and the furniture straightened up, until his eyes came to rest upon the painting in the corner. _Wow,_ he thought to himself, absorbing every detail. He stood rooted to the spot, amazed by the work of art in front of him, until he heard a knock at the door.


	8. A World About to Dawn

Grantaire, Grow Up

A/N: We are making progress, slowly. I know how I want this story to end, but I'm still trying to figure out how we get from here to there, so progress will probably continue to be slow for awhile. I'm excited, however, to see some people are following the story! Let me know what you think about how it unfolds. Since I've never really published anything I've written before I'm curious what's going through your minds. Thanks!

Chapter 8: A World About to Dawn

 _Combeferre waited a moment to make sure everyone was truly gone, before returning to the bedroom to check on his unconscious patient. Satisfied Grantaire was still doing well, he returned to the main room and set about trying to put it back into some semblance of order. He made a fair amount of progress, getting much of the mess cleared up and the furniture straightened up, until his eyes came to rest upon the painting in the corner. Wow, he thought to himself, absorbing every detail. He stood rooted to the spot, amazed by the work of art in front of him, until he heard a knock at the door._

-o-

At first he didn't acknowledge the sound, being too absorbed in the work of art before him. But the person at the door was a persistent one, and the continued knocking eventually drew Combeferre away. _I wonder how many of them are here,_ he thought to himself. _Probably all of them._ "I'm coming, hold on," he called to the door, afraid the knocking might disturb the other people living in the building.

He opened the door and was unsurprised to see a hallway full of his friends. "It's about time, what took you so long?" Eponine said with a huff. Clearly she had been the one pounding on the door, "did something else happen? Is he still ok?" She asked, standing on tip-toes to try to see over Combeferre's shoulder into the apartment.

"Everything's fine, I was just distracted. Why don't you come in?" Combeferre barely finished his sentence before Eponine had shoved her way past him into the room, followed closely by Feuilly, Bossuet (who tripped over the doorstep on his way in), Bahorel, Marius, Musichetta, Jehan, and Courfeyrac. "Is that everyone?" he asked laughing at them all trying to squeeze into the cramped room, "or did Enj and Joly decide to come back too and make it a full group meeting?"

"We didn't see them, are they not here?" Jehan asked, puzzled.

"No, I sent them both home to get some rest shortly after you two left."

"Well, where is Grantaire?" Eponine asked, hands on her hips and her foot tapping impatiently.

"He's resting; it's been a rough night. Jehan, Courf, did you explain everything?"

"Yeah, everything we know anyway," Courfeyrac answered.

"So…so he will be ok, right?" Marius asked tentatively, not looking up.

Combeferre sighed as he collected his thoughts. "Grantaire will live. And he should make a full recovery from the poisoning. He'll be out for a couple of days. When he wakes up we'll find out what's going on with him, why he decided to do this. I don't know if he'll be ok in that respect, there's no way to know until we can talk to him and see what happened."

"Oh," was all Marius could say in response.

"I want to see him," Eponine said after a moment's silence.

Combeferre raised his eyebrows slightly at her, his curiosity piqued. But he didn't question her, instead he simply said, "he's in the bedroom, sleeping. You may see him, but don't try to wake him up, please." Eponine once more pushed her way past him as he finished speaking, this time on her way into Grantaire's bedroom. She shut the door behind her.

Combeferre watched her disappear, slightly taken aback by her abruptness, then turned to the rest of his friends. "How are you all holding up?" he asked, and the friends began to loosen up, taking seats around the room and chatting with one another. They revealed they had brought their gifts and party supplies with them from the Musain, and decided at some point they would have to have their party after he woke up. Eventually Eponine returned from Grantaire's bedside, eyes red and puffy from clearly having spent a great deal of time crying. She gave them all a look that instantly stopped them from questioning her about it, and then she took an empty seat on the floor and joined their conversation. As the night wore on and turned to day break each Amis member took a turn going to Grantaire's room for a while. It seemed to do them some good, seeing their friend, getting confirmation he was still alive, and having the chance to say whatever was on their minds to him, even if he couldn't hear them. In the main room talk quickly turned to Grantaire's artwork, as the painting in the corner drew everyone's eye; and they set about debating what different parts of it meant or represented and trying to decide if they liked the way they'd been painted or not. The somber mood brightened and tears gave way to laughter as the first rays of sunshine began to break the darkness outside as well. Eventually the friends began to make their way, one by one, out of the tiny home – Musichetta and Bossuet to go check on Joly, Feuilly so he could get some sleep before going to work, Marius who had a class to attend in the morning, Eponine deciding she should leave as she saw Marius get up, Bahorel who thought it best he take off and run an errand before heading home.

Soon all that was left were Jehan and Courfeyrac debating about the details of the painting and Combeferre, who left the two of them to check on Grantaire once more. When he returned to the room, they were still bickering. "You know," he said calmly, "there's really no way to know for sure until you can ask him about it. I suggest you wait until then to see why he decided to paint it the way he did."

They both looked like they wanted to protest his reasoning, but before they could he continued, "I also suggest you two head home and get some sleep. Everyone else has…and I wouldn't mind getting a little rest myself," he said with a small smile.

Sheepishly, Jehan replied, "You're right Combeferre. Sorry for keeping you up so long. We'll head out. Do you need anything before we go?"

"Hmm, I think I'm alright. Joly said he would bring supplies with him in the morning when he returns. And Grantaire seems to be doing alright, so no worries there. I think we're all good here. I'll see you guys later."

"Alright, take care," Jehan said, getting up and helping Courfeyrac up once more, "and take care of our hurt friend."

"I will," he said softly, watching as the two departed. Once they were gone, he collapsed into the chair under the window, and quickly fell asleep.

-o-

Sleep was proving to be very elusive for Enjolras however. The moment he had left Grantaire's apartment he'd felt it was the wrong thing to do. But he couldn't decide what the right thing to do would be instead. He slowly made his way home, his injured toe from early in the morning starting to hurt again. _It's hard to believe that was only this morning, it seems like it was weeks ago now with everything that has happened today._

As he trudged home, he reflected on all that had gone on today. Waking up feeling sore and sick, hurting his foot and hand before he'd even left his home. Getting soaked by the rain on the way to school where he found out about General Lamarque's health problems. Getting soaked and covered in mud on his way to the Musain. Combeferre's kindness in helping him, and his taking over the meeting. Grantaire being late for the meeting. Having a discussion with Ferre and Courf before getting into a heated argument with Grantaire. Going too far and hurting Grantaire. Grantaire pushing him up against the wall before running away in tears. Coming to Grantaire's apartment and finding him almost dead on the floor. Joly and Combeferre struggling to keep Grantaire alive. Grantaire's artwork. Grantaire being so lightweight when they carried him to his room. Grantaire's smooth skin when they'd changed his clothes…

 _Stop right there!_ He shouted inwardly. _What are you doing, Enjolras? You can't seriously be developing feelings for him. You've never had feeling for anyone; you decided a long time ago there you didn't have time for romantic inclinations. Not with the revolution to plan. Not with the future to dream of and build. You said from the beginning you'd never let yourself get attracted to anyone or anything other than the freedom you are fighting for. And you've never thought this way about…him…before now, why is it happening all of a sudden? What changed?_

Enjolras really had no answer for his questions. The more he thought about it, the less he seemed to understand what was happening in his own mind. He had made his way home, lost in the whirlpool of these thoughts, but was no closer to figuring them out when he was climbing into his bed than when he'd walked out Grantaire's door.

 _Besides, you don't even know anything about the man. You've only ever talked politics with him; well, debated politics with him, to be honest. You've never had a civil conversation with him before. You didn't even know where he lived until tonight, and you've known him for almost a year! Why have you treated him so differently than all the rest of your friends? Is it because you don't consider him one of your friends, or is there another reason?_

More questions he simply did not have the answers to. These were things he had never even considered before this night; and he was completely shocked to see just how differently he had treated Grantaire. He'd never noticed, never taken the time to notice.

 _Not until you nearly destroyed his life. Why did you say all those things? Why verbally attack him and belittle him? That's not your way; that's what you are fighting against. How could you stoop to that level against someone you claim is your friend? What is going on?_

And then Grantaire's own words began to surface once more. _"I said…that I believe in you."_ He had scoffed when he first heard them, and then continued on his tirade against the older man. _But what if it's true? You assumed he was joking or just saying it, but what if he really meant it? What if he does believe in me? Whatever that means. And then I took that and spit it back in his face. I've been horrible to him, and for no reason whatsoever. What is wrong with me?_

Grantaire's words interrupted his thoughts once more. _"Don't ever say those words to me again! You know nothing about me!"_ Enjolras could almost feel the other's hands curled in fists around his shirt lapel and pushing him up against the wall of the café as the pronouncement rang through his head once more.

 _He's exactly right. I know nothing about him. I don't even know which of the stupid things I said is the one that he was referring to. Maybe all of them. I don't know why he reacted the way he did; apart from the fact that I pushed him to. I don't know why it was too much for him, why he tried to take his own life. All I know is that I hurt him with the things I said. Grantaire, how did you ever come to be like this? How did I ever come to be like this? Why do we only ever argue? I don't understand what is going on, what has happened. I don't understand, because I know nothing about you. I know nothing of who you really are, what you like, what you want. And I know nothing of your past, what has made you become this way. And that, like the things that have unfolded tonight, is entirely my fault. I've never taken the time to get to know you. And that was a mistake. I want to know you, I want to know who you are, why you are the way you are. I want to fix what I have done to hurt you. I want to help you heal. I want to be with…no Enjolras! Don't go there. That is not a place you can go._

He tried to push those thoughts out of his head. In their place the image of Grantaire lying sprawled across the floor, hand outstretched towards an unfinished letter came in instead. The words of the letter surfaced as well; he could almost hear Grantaire saying them himself. _"To my Apollo. I said to you tonight that you know nothing about me. Before I go, there are a few things I want to tell you…"_

 _He had been dying, or planning on dying, when he wrote those words Enjolras. He didn't know your friends would come and save him. His dying thoughts were of you. He had something he wanted to say to you. And you nearly killed him before he could get the chance. He wanted to talk to you, and you didn't let him. Like always. You've never let him talk to you. You don't know anything about him because you always shut him down or tune him out. You've been cruel, silencing him because you are afraid of what he will say rather than letting him speak his mind and figuring out how to deal with it. You are no better than the tyrants you are fighting against. Do they not do the same things? Do they not silence their enemies rather than listen to what they have to say? Only you, Enjolras, are worse. You don't silence your enemies; you silence the ones you claim are your friends. Something has to change. Your friends deserve better from you. Grantaire deserves better from you._

 _But will I ever get the chance to redeem myself?_ That thought scared him. _What if he never wakes up? What if I don't get a chance to talk to him, to hear what he has to say, to learn about him? What if he dies?_

 _He won't die. Joly and Combeferre said so. He's going to recover, he's going to live. You can trust your friends. They will make sure you have a second chance, an opportunity to make amends. They have never failed you, even when you have failed them. They will come through._

 _But will Grantaire want to talk to me? He said he wanted to. But he killed himself, or tried to, rather than actually doing it. It was easier for him to drink poison than it was to tell me whatever he wanted to say. What kind of a monster have you become Enjolras? How did you ever reach this point, where this was the way people reacted to you?_

 _I need to change. That's all there is to it. No more speculation about what happened. No more worrying and second guessing. When tomorrow comes, you are going to be a different person, a better person. You are going to help your friends revive the one you've hurt. And, whenever he wakes up, you are going to have a nice long talk with him, once Ferre says its ok. And if he doesn't want to talk, you can at least apologize and let him know you've realized how awful you've been and how much you want to try to start over. And who knows, maybe something can come of it. An actual friendship, or something more._

Instead of protesting the forbidden thoughts, his tired mind finally drifted off to sleep, carried along by them. A small smile grew at the corners of his mouth as his internal struggle gave way to the possibilities of what tomorrow might have in store for him and his Grantaire.


	9. A Morning of Confusion

Grantaire, Grow Up

Chapter 9: A Morning of Confusion

" _Alright, take care," Jehan said, getting up and helping Courfeyrac up once more, "and take care of our hurt friend."_

" _I will," Combeferre said softly, watching as the two departed. Once they were gone, he collapsed into the chair under the window, and quickly fell asleep._

-o-

Combeferre didn't sleep particularly well. Whether that was because of the uncomfortable chair, the change in his routine, or his worry over Grantaire he wasn't sure; maybe all three. Especially the third; every time he fell asleep he'd have nightmares of discovering Grantaire's mutilated, lifeless body, of his friends blaming him for not getting to the cynic in time, or of watching helpless to stop his friend as he took his own life. Each time he would awake drenched in sweat, and quickly stumble out of the chair to Grantaire's room to see how his patient was doing. Once he could see that his friend was fast asleep, breathing steadily, he would relax and head back to the chair; only for the process to repeat itself once again.

After a few hours of trying unsuccessfully to sleep Combeferre gave up. Deciding his time would be better served doing something constructive, he wandered around the small apartment learning where Grantaire kept things. There wasn't much to learn, a closet in the bedroom that stored his few extra clothes and his art supplies. A few cupboards in the kitchen area containing some cooking supplies and dishes, and Joly's stash of medical supplies. _I wonder if Joly is going to rethink keeping medicine in everyone's homes after this incident,_ he thought as he straightened out the other bottles Grantaire must have knocked over while getting the one he had used last night. Combeferre returned to the main room, but there was little else to discover here. The only thing he hadn't rifled through was Grantaire's sketchbook, now sitting on the table in the middle of the room.

Combeferre contemplated it for a long while, periodically glancing from the book to the painting in the corner, back to the book, to the door leading to Grantaire's room, and back again. _I really would like to see what he has in there, he's always drawing something…but he probably keeps it private for a reason, he never lets anyone look through it. Should I?_ The temptation was growing steadily stronger. He was reaching for the book to open it when a knock at the door interrupted him. _Perhaps that is for the best,_ he thought as he moved instead to answer the door.

He had barely turned the knob when Joly burst in talking a mile a minute. "I'm sorry I'm late, I wanted to make sure I had everything before I came, but I wasn't sure what all we might need. I even started on my way here before I realized I had completely forgotten to pack extra handkerchiefs, and had to go back home and grab some and start all over again. Anyways, I brought along some food. I wasn't sure if Grantaire would have anything to cook with, but Musichetta refused to let me bring the pots I had set out; so if we need them I'll have to go back home. I also have plenty of medicine, as well as the proper counteragents if he has a bad reaction to them. I want us to store them in a secure place though, so no one but us can get to them. I will never forgive myself if something like last night ever happens again with my own supplies. And I brought a couple extra blankets, in case there aren't enough here to keep him warm. And a few of my medical books, in case he develops symptoms we don't recognize, or if he has something contagious. My knowledge of water based contagions is a little rusty…"

Joly would most likely have gone on indefinitely, but Combeferre chose to finally cut him off. "Joly, slow down and catch your breath," he said with a chuckle, "It sounds like we will have everything we need to take care of Grantaire until he wakes up, and then some. You've done well my friend. Now, how about I cook up some of this food you've brought so we can try to keep him nourished."

"Um, right. I should examine him and make sure he's still doing alright. There have been a few rare incidents where that medicine has caused gastroenterological problems, especially when combined with alcohol."

"Of course. I will leave you to your examination," Combeferre said shaking his head slightly as he unpacked some ingredients to make soup and turned towards the kitchen area. Joly grabbed his medical bag from the floor by the door, rifled through it to make sure he had everything, grabbed a few extra things from the bag he'd brought with him, and headed off to the bedroom.

-o-

Enjolras did not sleep well that night either. The forbidden thoughts which had helped him fall asleep with a smile did not last, instead quickly turning to nightmares of his own. In his dreams he replayed the incidents of that evening: his argument with Grantaire, Grantaire running away, and arriving at his apartment to see him lying on the floor. Only, each time he replayed it in his mind it got worse. The argument became more heated and Enjolras become more cruel and hurtful towards his friend; Grantaire would run away injured and crying uncontrollably; they would find his dead, mangled body or they wouldn't find him at all.

Finally he shot straight up in bed, wide awake, tears falling down his face at the vision of Grantaire lying in a pool of his own blood down some long abandoned alley. _It was only a dream,_ he said to himself, trying to regain control. _It wasn't real; that didn't happen. You were there, you and your friends found him unconscious, but Joly was able to save him. He's alive and he's recovering. It was just a dream._ He drew his legs up close and curled into a ball, tears still silently falling. _This is all your fault. You deserve to have these bad dreams after what you did to the man you claimed to be friends with. You nearly killed him; those things could have easily become reality. And you would be the one to blame._

 _I need to see him. I need to know if he is still ok._ He quickly scrambled out of bed and began to dress himself once more. As he was pulling his shoes back on, he stopped and let his thoughts take over again. _What are you doing? He'll be asleep, there isn't anything you can do if you go. Besides, Ferre is probably asleep too, you'll just disturb them both. There's no reason to go there right now that can't wait until a normal hour._ He began to undress once more, preparing to climb back into bed. _But I won't be able to sleep if I stay here. The dreams will just come back and keep me awake. I would be better off if I went._ He got up once more. _But isn't that being selfish? You're going to disturb your friends' sleep just because you can't sleep? Leave them alone, they don't deserve that._

This continued for quite some time. Eventually he gave up, lay back down, and returned to his restless slumber, and his nightmares.

-o-

Most of the Amis had commitments they had to keep that morning. Musichetta and Feuilly were at work; Marius, Courfeyrac, and Jehan were in classes; Bossuet had an assignment he needed to finish for a later class; Eponine was doing something for her father; and Bahorel had mysteriously disappeared to take care of his "errand." One by one they all made their way to the Musain for lunch, however, and at the table in the corner only one topic of discussion was on every mind: Grantaire.

"How're you doing?" Courfeyrac drowsily asked Marius and Jehan as they walked in and joined him and Bossuet.

"Not so well," Marius said nervously, "I…I couldn't sleep last night…not after what happened."

Jehan patted him on the back reassuringly, "I think we were probably all like that, so don't feel bad. I stayed up most of the night writing poetry to keep myself occupied. It didn't help much though." He finished with a sigh, which turned into a yawn, as he sat down.

"When…when do you think he will wake up?" Marius asked after a few moments silence.

"I don't know. Combeferre and Joly said a couple days, but they weren't sure. I guess we'll just have to wait and see," Jehan replied.

"I hate waiting," Courfeyrac retorted. Jehan raised his eyebrows at his friend, and Courfeyrac began to go red in the face. "I just mean, I want to know what's going on with him. What's wrong? Why'd he do it? What can we do to help? I need to know…I need to know how much of it is my fault," he said, burying his head in his hands with his last sentence.

Jehan wrapped his arm around his friend as Bossuet spoke up. "It's not your fault, you know. I'm not sure it's anyone's fault, not really anyway…"

"That's not true and you know it!" This came from Eponine, who had just walked into the café with Feuilly but now stood rooted to the floor, anger clearly rising.

"What do you mean?" Bossuet asked, concerned.

"It really is my fault?" Courfeyrac asked, a hurt expression appearing.

"Of course not, you aren't to blame. But someone is. One person in particular," Eponine replied, voice rising with her temper.

"Eponine stop!" Jehan cried out suddenly, as all eyes in the room turned from Eponine to the man walking through the café door; but it was ineffective.

"It's all Enjolras' fault! If he hadn't been so heartless Grantaire would not have tried to kill himself. But we all know it's not as if he cares at all. He's probably happy to have Grantaire not here to bother him for a while."

"That's not true," Enjolras said quietly from behind her. Eponine spun around, startled to hear the leader's voice. She immediately stopped talking and turned a bright red as she stared at the floor, too embarrassed to make eye contact. Enjolras' face was emotionless, the marble mask he so often wore in public, making him impossible for his friends to read. He continued speaking in his quiet, calm voice, sounding almost sad, "Whether you believe me or not, I do care. I wish this had never happened, and I wish Grantaire was here with us this afternoon. And you are right. I am to blame; it is my fault, and mine alone, that he is not here. For that I am truly sorry."

He paused, appearing as though he would continue speaking, but then decided against it. Most of the Amis stared at him incredulously, unsure what to make of his words. Before they could decide, he turned around and began to walk back towards the door. He paused again, looking over his shoulder at his friends, "The official Amis meetings are postponed indefinitely. Combeferre will let you know if that changes." And without another word, he slowly made his way outside the café. For the second time in as many days the entire Musain was silent, stunned by the things that had happened inside it.

The silence was finally broken by the arrival of Bahorel. "I'm sorry I'm late, had something I had to take care of…" he trailed off at the end as he began to take in the expressions of his friends, none of whom seemed to even register the fact he'd arrived. "What did I miss?"

Feuilly was the first to stir out of the reverie. "What…what just happened?" he asked the room at large.

"I think," Courfeyrac replied, "I think Enjolras just disbanded the Amis."

"What! What happened?" Bahorel cried out, though the others still seemed not to notice.

"No," Bossuet said quietly, "I don't think so. He just said that we aren't going to meet officially for now. I don't think that means the group is going to stop exisiting."

"I think he might stop being a part of it though," Marius added.

"Which would be the same as disbanding us. He's our leader; without him the Amis won't exist," Courfeyrac said, hurt expression on his face once more.

"That's ridiculous. He can't just up and quit," Eponine said with a huff.

"What happened?!" Bahorel tried again, still unsuccessful.

"He didn't say he's quitting," Bossuet tried again, "let's not make this bigger than it actually is."

"I agree," Jehan said, speaking up, "Let's give him some time to sort things through. He must be struggling with what happened last night. For now we need to focus on getting Grantaire back on his feet. Perhaps it would be for the best if our revolution plans get pushed back some while we help our friend. And maybe after a few days things will calm down and we can sort through some of this other stuff and get back on track."

They all fell silent once more, each lost in his/her own thoughts. Bahorel tried one more, "Is someone going to tell me what is going on here?"

They all looked up, surprised to see him. "Bahorel," Courfeyrac exclaimed, "when did you get here?"

Feuilly added, "come have a seat and we'll fill you in." Eponine's face turned red again, and she quickly excused herself and went towards the back room of the café. Bahorel took a seat next to Feuilly and listened to his story.

-o-

Enjolras walked briskly away from the café in the hopes he could get away in case one of his friends tried to follow him. To the casual passerby seeing him no one would guess there was anything wrong; but internally he was falling apart. Eponine's words had struck him a hard blow, and, since no one stopped her, he assumed the others probably agreed with what she had said. For that matter, _he_ agreed with what she had said – it was entirely his fault, he had been heartless, if it wasn't for him Grantaire would not have tried to kill himself.

He paused at an intersection of two streets, raising his hands to rub his temple. _What do I do now?_ The initial plan had been to have lunch with the Amis and talk about the revolution they were planning as a way to get their minds off what was going on and be productive for awhile. Clearly, that wasn't going to happen. He debated whether he should return and explain himself, but doubted that would go over very well. He wondered if he should simply return home. _No,_ he thought to himself, _I left because it was getting to be too hard to stay in there alone with my thoughts. It would not be wise to go home and be alone. But perhaps that is what you deserve._

After standing in the street for a couple of minutes he finally made up his mind, and turned to walk, not to his home, but to Grantaire's. _Maybe Combeferre will still be there; perhaps I should talk to him about what's going on. At the very least he needs to know that we're not having meetings for awhile. That news probably isn't going to go over very well…Enjolras, what has happened to you? You've always prided yourself on being calm and put together. You've always been able to think through a situation and reach a resolution that works. What is going on now? In 24 hours you've completely collapsed – gotten sick, almost killed the man you lo…your friend, and nearly destroyed your entire group of friends. Everything is falling apart around you, and it's your own doing. How do I fix this? Can I? What do I do if I can't?_

These thoughts continued to circle his mind as he trudged through the streets of Paris to the home he wished he had spent time in before last night. _Hopefully Ferre will know what to do._


	10. Open the Floodgates

Grantaire, Grow Up

A/N - Hi everyone! I really appreciate the feedback I've been receiving on this story. Initially, my plan for this story had about five chapters or so; but since I started writing it, GGU (as I affectionately refer to it) has kind of taken on a life of its own. It's already twice as long and we're probably only about halfway through. I hope you'll stick with me though as we find out where this is headed; and continue to review or give input/feedback on what you think! Lastly, since it is the tenth chapter, I decided one or two important plot points were in order; so it gets a little fun towards the end. Enjoy!

Chapter 10: Open the Floodgates

 _Enjolras, what has happened to you? You've always prided yourself on being calm and put together. You've always been able to think through a situation and reach a resolution that works. What is going on now? In 24 hours you've completely collapsed – gotten sick, almost killed the man you lo…your friend, and nearly destroyed your entire group of friends. Everything is falling apart around you, and it's your own doing. How do I fix this? Can I? What do I do if I can't?_

 _These thoughts continued to circle his mind as he trudged through the streets of Paris to the home he wished he had spent time in before last night. Hopefully Ferre will know what to do._

-o-

It did not take him long to reach Grantaire's apartment, but Enjolras hesitated once more on the steps leading into the building. _Is this what I should be doing? Ferre, if he is here, will be busy taking care of Grantaire, who actually needs the help. Won't I simply be being a burden to my already overworked friend?_ The thought had barely crossed his mind when the memory of words Combeferre had spoken just yesterday cancelled them out. _"Come on Enjolras, you know I was only teasing. You are not a burden; you're my best friend. It's only natural for me to worry about you."_

 _I suppose you are right, Ferre. I guess I'm going to find out if that is really true or not._ He began to make his way up the stairs, anxious about what he might when he reached his destination. As his nerves grew, he realized his throat was beginning to feel scratchy again as well, and his aches and pains from yesterday were returning. _Great,_ he thought, _as if this wasn't already uncomfortable enough._

He reached the door to Grantaire's apartment and was about to knock on the door when a horrible flashback stopped him where he stood. His mind raced back to the night before, standing on this doorstep and being terrified at the sight of Grantaire sprawled on the floor inside unmoving. He had not had the courage to see if the man was dead or alive, instead waiting with bated breath to hear Joly give the verdict, then watching helplessly as he and Combeferre began to attend to him. As they fought to keep him alive, Enjolras' only contribution had been to find a bottle on the floor, and he began to feel even more guilt over his helplessness.

He was still standing there, silently brooding and berating himself, one hand half raised to knock on the door, when the door opened without his assistance. "If you need me, just send for me, otherwise I'll be back this evening," Combeferre called over his shoulder, presumably to Joly, as he began to leave the apartment. He stopped abruptly when he turned around and found himself face to face, or rather face to fist, with Enjolras.

"Enj, what are you doing?" he asked once he was sure his friend wasn't about to hit him.

Enjolras looked from Combeferre to his still raised hand, muttered a quick "sorry" and lowered the hand, but didn't immediately respond to the question he was asked. Instead he stared intently at the floor, embarrassed at being caught in a moment of indecision by his friend and once again questioning himself on whether or not he wanted to talk.

"Are you here to see Grantaire?" Combeferre tried again. He could tell his best friend was distressed, and he wanted to get the other man to open up and talk a bit so he could see what was going on.

"Umm…yes, I'm here to see Grantaire," Enjolras said, looking back up and deciding he wasn't so sure he wanted to talk after all. "How is he doing today?"

Combeferre was unsure of what to think about the abrupt change in his friend, but decided to go along with it and see what he could figure out. "He's about the same. We've been able to get some soup and water in him, hopefully that will strengthen him. He's still unconscious though, and Joly thinks he will remain that way for another day or two yet. Would you like to see him?"

Enjolras paused again before speaking, "Umm…yes, I want to see him."

"Ok," Combeferre replied, backing up slightly so Enjolras could enter the apartment, "Joly is with him at the moment, but I'll let him know you are here." As Enjolras walked inside and shut the door behind him, Combeferre went to Grantaire's bedroom to talk to Joly. The two came out a moment later, Joly going towards the kitchen after a quick hello to Enjolras and Combeferre going to his best friend.

"Joly says there isn't anything that needs to be done for awhile, so take as much time with him as you want. I'll be out here if you need me," he said, the concern evident on his face.

"I thought you were headed out," Enjolrs said, slightly puzzled.

Combeferre smiled slightly, "I've changed my mind and decided I'll stick around for a little bit longer. I'll be out here when you are finished."

Enjolras regarded his friend with fresh eyes, contemplating this turn of events before letting it fully sink in. Then he gave a small, knowing smile himself, "thank you, my friend," before entering Grantaire's room. He left the door slightly ajar, then turned with his back to it and stared at the man lying in the bed before him.

It was difficult, painful, seeing Grantaire this way. The cynic had often been unconscious in the revolutionary's presence, but always from his intoxicating beverages before this point. Seeing the man, who was also the center of his own internal turmoil, half dead because of something he had said was almost too much for Enjolras to take. He was in the process of turning to leave when his thoughts got ahold of him again. _What are you doing Enjolras? You've been running since last night – running away from him, from your friends, and your thoughts. It needs to stop if you are going to get through this and be the leader you are meant to be._

He straightened slightly, turning once more away from the door and went to sit in the chair next to Grantaire's bedside. As he settled into it and tentatively took one of Grantaire's hands, he heard a rapt knock on the front door in the main room. He decided to ignore it, though, and steeled himself for what he had to say.

-o-

Combeferre wondered who else would be here, and what to say if they wanted to see Grantaire, as he got up from the chair in the main room and made his way for the second time in as many minutes towards the front door. He opened it, and for the second time also found himself staring at the fist of one of his friends, Courfeyrac, who was about to knock once more when the door was opened.

Courfeyrac quickly lowered his arm, sheepish about almost accidentally hitting his friend. "Hi Ferre, is Enj here?" he asked, looking over his friend's shoulder.

"Yes he is, what's up?"

"There was an…incident at the Café a little while ago. Jehan and I wanted to make sure everything was alright. We decided he probably either came here or went to his own home, so we split up. Can I come in?"

Combeferre raised his eyebrows at the word "incident," but otherwise remained at ease while he listened. "Of course, come in. Joly is making some lunch, would you like me to ask him to include some for you as well?"

"No, I'm ok. Where's Enjolras?" Courfeyrac asked as he stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

"He's in Grantaire's room, talking."

"Oh" was Courfeyrac's only reply.

Combeferre waited a moment, then when it became obvious the other was not going to elaborate he decided to press on, "perhaps I can be of more assistance if you tell me about this incident at the café."

Courfeyrac looked up again, color draining from his face, "Oh, um, right. Well, the short version goes like this. We were all getting together for lunch and to have a meeting, and some of us were talking about Grantaire while we were waiting, and, we...well…" he looked down, unwilling to make eye contact with his friends as he shuffled slightly on his feet and wrung his hands, clearly uncomfortable.

"Courf?" Combeferre asked gently, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I said it was my fault, the stuff that happened. I caused the argument. Some of the others said no. That's when Enjolras came in, as Eponine was saying, well shouting, that it was all his fault, that he was heartless and happy to have Grantaire out of his way…" he trailed off again, either unsure of what to say next or afraid of what came next.

Combeferre did his best to remain calm and in control of his emotions, but the revelation of what had transpired hurt him for what must be going through his friend's mind. He grew impatient waiting for Courfeyrac to continue, and shook his shoulder slightly. "What happened next?"

Courfeyrac grew even more uncomfortable, if it was possible, and his voice became quieter as well. "He…well he heard it all as he walked up to our table. When she finished he said it wasn't true…but the way he said it, I've never heard him talk like that. It was…different. He also said he wished it had never happened, that he was the one to blame, and he was sorry…then…then he…as he was leaving, he said the Amis meetings were going to be postponed indefinitely, and you would let us know if that changed."

"He said what?" Combeferre was speechless, shocked by what he had just learned. He went over to sit back down in the chair under the window, thoughts racing through his mind. "What else happened?"

"Nothing. He walked out of the café. Some of us stuck around and talked for a while, then everyone left. Jehan and I were the last ones and we decided we should try to find him, or you, and see what we could figure out." Courfeyrac said quickly, moving to take a seat on the floor near Combeferre and looking up at his friend with an anxious, expectant expression.

Combeferre sighed and leaned back into the chair, thinking. "Well, thank you for letting me know what happened. I'll have to figure out what the best way to do this will be."

"Ferre…" Courfeyrac began quietly, looking back down at his hands in his lap as he spoke, "Ferre, the Amis…this isn't the end, is it? We're going to stay together, right?" He looked up at his friend, both hopeful and scared at the same time.

Combeferre gave him a soft smile in return, "Of course we are. We are the friends of the abased and afflicted, and right now that is us ourselves. Don't worry, our group is going to stay together, I promise. We will be friends until the day we die."

Courfeyrac melted with relief, lying back himself so he was flat on his back. "I'm glad to hear that. You all mean too much to me, I don't know what I'd do without the Amis in my life. I just wish everything could go back to the way it was."

"Me too my friend, me too," was Combeferre's response.

A minute or so went by in silence, until Courfeyrac shot up straight once more and quickly addressed his friend again, "I can't believe I completely forgot. How could I be so stupid and not ask? How is Grantaire doing? Is he any better yet?"

Combeferre calmed his friend and then began to explain it all again. Once Courfeyrac was satisfied, their conversation drifted to other things, until Courfeyrac decided he should head back out and let Jehan know he had found Enjolras and Combeferre was going to talk to him. "Which," as Courfeyrac said as he walked out the door, "is for the best anyway, because you know how to talk to him better than the rest of us do. And you are the only one he really listens to anyway; the rest of us he can ignore without getting slapped in the face," he finished cheekily, a small grin on his face.

"Hey now, watch it there. I'm not sure how much he'd appreciate you bringing that particular memory back up." Combeferre chastised his friend slightly, then softened and brought his hand up pretending like he was about to smack his friend. "Besides, there's plenty more to go around, if needed."

Courfeyrac quickly ducked out the door, "I'll pass. And I'm going to go before you decide to make good on that." He gave a short wave to his friend as he took off down the stairs.

Combeferre closed the door behind him and, turning into the main room, was greeted by Joly carrying a couple plates of food. "Lunch is ready," he announced happily, then looking around he asked, "is Courfeyrac gone already?"

"You just missed him," Combeferre replied, gratefully accepting his plate of food and going to set it on the table in the middle of the room to eat.

"Well, how do you like that? He left without even saying good-bye," Joly said crisply, moving to join his friend at the table.

"He had a lot of other things on his mind," Combeferre said simply, than the room grew silent once more as the two friends ate their meal together.

-o-

Enjolras was unsure of what exactly he should do, or if he should do anything at all. He noticed Grantaire's hand resting atop the blankets and absentmindedly grabbed it in his own. The sensation of holding the man's hand drew him out of his reveries quickly, and into a new one. _His hand is so rough,_ Enjolras thought to himself, _and yet it must be nimble for him to be able to do his artwork._ He also noticed that it felt rather cold, so he quickly clasped it between both of his, hoping that would help. _It would make more sense to just put his hand back under the blanket where it is warm,_ he thought. _Yes, but then I wouldn't be able to hold it; I like this way better._ A smile crept into the corners of his mouth at the thought.

For a while longer he simply sat there, gathering his thoughts. He stared deeply at the unconscious man in front of him, trying to piece together what was going on inside his head. Grantaire shifted in his sleep slightly, and his hand reflexively squeezed Enjolras' slightly. And that opened the floodgates of Enjolras' mind, which he poured out on the sleeping beauty in the bed before him.

"Grantaire," he said trying hard to choke back a sob in his already sore throat, "I'm so sorry for what I've done to you. You don't deserve to be in this bed fighting for your life. You don't deserve the pain I've caused you, over and over again since we first met. I've been nothing but rude to you. And you were right, you were completely right, I don't know anything about you. I don't know who you are, or who you have been, or who you one day want to be. I don't understand why you are so cynical, or why you drink so much, or why you paint. I don't understand why you keep coming back to the Les Amis meetings, or why you keep talking to me."

He paused for breath as he felt a few tears begin to flow down his cheeks. "But I am glad you do. The others are right, you do mean a lot to me. Your arguments force me to think about my convictions in a way no one else ever has, you make me understand there is more to it than what I see. You are able to lighten up a tense discussion in a way no one else I know can. I know I give you a hard time about your drinking, but it's only because I do care about you. And I give you a hard time about not believing in anything because…because I want what you said to be true, I want you to believe in me. I want your strength and your help as he fight for the future of France. I want the image you painted to become a reality." By now the tears were flowing fast and free, Enjolras' voice shaking slightly with the effort to keep himself from collapsing completely."

"But…but I want to make one change…I want you to be standing next to me in it, because I want you fighting alongside me to win it. Grantaire, I want you to grow up…with me, in a free world that we will build together. Grantaire, I…I want…I want you to get better…I want you to forgive me for hurting you so much…Grantaire, I…I want…I want you." As soon as he said it he recoiled, looking around furtively afraid that someone may have overheard. He had spoken his forbidden thoughts out loud, and it terrified him. Once he had determined he was alone, apart from the unconscious man to whom he was baring his soul, his resolve finally deteriorated altogether, and he collapsed sobbing onto the sleeping man's chest. "Grantaire…I want you…Grantaire…I…I…I…love…y-you." He had enough energy to say it only once. Exhausted from a sleepless night full of nightmares, still feeling ill and sore from the previous day, and now emotionally drained, Enjolras soon cried himself to sleep, the chest of the man he loved serving as his pillow.


	11. An Overdue Conversation

Grantaire, Grow Up

A/N: Hello everyone. So, I'm not entirely sure what I think of this chapter. I'm kind of stuck at the moment deciding how this story should progress, so reviews and input would be greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy! And thanks to everyone who is following this story!

Chapter 11: An Overdue Conversation

As Enjolras bore his soul to the unconscious man in the bedroom, finally coming to terms with his own feelings towards the cynic, Combeferre and Joly finished their lunch in the main room of the cynic's apartment. They ate in silence for a time, until they began to hear the muffled sounds of sobbing coming from the other room.

"Wait, what was that?" Joly asked, startled out of his thoughts when he first heard the noise.

"He's crying," Combeferre replied, turning to look at the bedroom door with pure shock on his face.

"He's crying? Are you sure? If Grantaire is awake we need to get in there and check on him," Joly said, moving to get up. Before he could, Combeferre grabbed his arm to stop him.

"No, Joly. It isn't Grantaire," he said quietly, still shocked. Joly turned to face him, extremely puzzled by that statement.

"If it's not Grantaire, then who could…" he began, cutting himself off as comprehension began to dawn on him, "no…you don't think…Enjolras?"

Combeferre nodded slightly, releasing Joly's arm and turning back towards the bedroom door. "Yes, it's him."

"But, he never cries. He's always so stoic. What's this about?"

"I'm…I'm not sure, my friend. Courfeyrac told me there was an altercation between Enj and the other Amis at the Musain earlier, maybe that's it. I don't know; somehow I think there is more to it than that." Combeferre shrugged slightly, then returned to his food.

Joly looked on incredulously, "Well, what are we going to do about it?"

Combeferre looked up at Joly for a moment, then returned to his food, "Nothing."

Joly's incredulity shifted rapidly to anger at that. "Nothing? What do you mean nothing? Your best friend, our leader, is in their sobbing. We have to do something," he said, voice rising slightly as he made to get up once more.

Combeferre was quick to grab hold of him again and keep him seated, "No Joly. Not yet; I don't know what's going on with Enj, but I do know there are right ways and wrong ways to help him. Please trust that I know what I am doing." He stared at his friend imploringly, hoping he could convince the medical student.

Joly seemed skeptical, and it was most certainly against his nature to ignore anyone, let alone a friend, when he felt there was a need. After a few moments of silently thinking, he answered. "I don't like it. What if he tries to hurt himself like Grantaire did?"

"He won't. I know he won't."

"But how? I understand you've known him longer than any of us; you're closer to him than any of us. But how can you be sure he's better off alone in there than if we were to at least check and make sure he's alright?"

Combeferre sat back silently, deciding how best to answer that. "I'm not sure, to be honest. I just know. We've been through so much together, Enj and I, that it's more like he's my younger brother than my friend; or both. Either way, I just know. We have to let him work some of this out by himself." He stopped speaking, once more staring at his friend, willing him to believe what he was saying.

Joly relaxed slightly, before replying. "I still don't like it. I think we should check on him. But if you think ignoring him is better, I'll follow your lead; for now."

Combeferre smiled slightly, "thank you my friend. Your trust means a lot to me. And, to put your mind at ease, I promise I will check on him and talk with him. But I will wait until I feel he is ready."

Joly made to get up once more, this time with the empty plates in hand, but Combeferre didn't stop him this time. "You'd better, Ferre. This has all been hard enough on the Amis as it is. I don't think I can handle having two of our friends as patients, and I don't even want to think about what it would do to the others," he said quietly, slowly making his way to the kitchen.

"I know, Joly. I feel the same way," Combeferre said softly, watching his friend go. He turned to once more stare at the bedroom door, thoughts meandering as he realized the sobs which had been growing in intensity while they talked had stopped. Curious, he got up and made his way slowly and silently to the bedroom door, which was still slightly ajar from Enjolras not closing it all the way. He pushed it open enough to peer inside, but then stood dumbstruck at the sight of his best friend asleep hunched over the bed on top of Grantaire's chest.

Joly's silent whisper behind him startled him back to reality, forcing him to suppress a gasp so as not to wake his friend. "I thought you were going to wait to check on him," Joly whispered, a slightly bemused expression on his face.

Combeferre shrugged, turning to look back at the two in the other room before quietly shutting the door and returning to his place in the living room. "He stopped crying, and I was curious. I think it's best to let him rest for now though," he said with a slight shrug.

Joly gave a genuine smile at that, handing Combeferre a cup of coffee in the process, "that, I can agree with!" They both settled back down where they had sat to eat a few moments ago, this time with books and papers in hand in an attempt to get some work done while nothing else was going on.

-o-

The afternoon wore on uneventfully. Jehan stopped in after Courfeyrac caught up with him, and some of the other Amis members came by as well to check and see how Grantiare was doing. Most had a busy day and were unable to stay for very long; _which_ , Combeferre mused, _is probably for the best. Enj asleep on Grantaire's chest would be a little difficult to explain to them all._

After a few hours, Combeferre decided it would be best to wake his best friend up and try to get him to talk before they both went home for a proper night's rest. He pushed the door to the bedroom open softly, then shut it behind him once more as he made his way to sit on the edge of Grantaire's bed. Enjolras had not moved from his position, by the looks of things. Combeferre smiled slightly at the scene, which turned to a grimace as he thought about having to wake his friend up.

"Enj…" he said softly as he gently shook the blond man's shoulder. Usually Enjolras was easy to rouse, having always been a light sleeper. This time, though, he was proving to be difficult. _I never would have guessed this would be all that comfortable to him,_ Combeferre thought silently as he shook his friend's shoulder a little more forcefully. "Enj, wake up."

"Mmm, what?" Enjolras said, stirring awake but not yet fully aware of his surroundings. He sat up, looking around to get his bearings. His initial confusion quickly changed to embarrassment as he realized how he had been discovered. "I fell asleep? How long have I been like this?"

Combeferre chuckled slightly, leaning back so he could sit more comfortably, "a couple of hours I think."

Enjolras groaned, "A couple of hours? I don't know what to say. I didn't mean to."

"There's no need to apologize, my friend."

Enjolras didn't immediately respond, choosing instead to look back and forth between his friends, lost in his thoughts. Finally he turned his full attention back to Combeferre. "How is he doing?"

Combeferre raised his eyebrows slightly at the question, caught off guard by the change in topic, but recovered quickly. "Joly and I haven't really checked on him while you have been in here, but he seems to be doing fine. There appears to have been no change since you arrived."

"That's good, I suppose," Enjolras said, turning his gaze back towards the unconscious man and getting lost in thought once more.

After another minute or two passed in silence Combeferre decided he would have to be a little more assertive if he wanted to get his friend to start talking. "Enjolras," he began, unsure of how best to approach what he wanted to say, "Enjolras, are you ok?"

"What?" Enjolras replied absentmindedly, "Oh, I'm fine."

Combeferre sighed then continued, "Let's try this again. Courfeyrac stopped in while you were asleep and told me what happened at the Musain earlier. And I could hear you crying in here while you were talking to Grantaire. So I know you aren't fine. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

Enjolras stared at his friend, an unreadable expression on his face. They sat in silence once more as Enjolras shifted from terror to sadness to confusion to anger and back again, deciding which emotion was going to dominate the others. Finally he took on an air of resignation, sighed in a defeated sort of way, and said, "I just don't know anymore, Ferre. I feel like everything has fallen apart in less than two days. And I don't know what to do about it."

"Well," Combeferre replied, shifting so he could move closer, "first things first. You don't have to keep dealing with it all on your own, you know. Treat this like you would any other problem Les Amis have had to deal with. Let's work together, talk it through, and see what we come up with."

"I don't know, do you really think that will help? This isn't like any problem we've dealt with before."

"We won't know unless we try."

Enjolras looked skeptical, but inside he knew he needed to talk with his friend. It was partially why he had come to Grantaire's apartment in the first place. "Ok," he finally said, resigned.

Combeferre gave him an encouraging smile, laying a hand on his shoulder, before continuing. "Where do we begin?"

"I don't know. It seems like everything is just falling apart around me. Lamarque got sick, Grantaire tried to kill himself, our friends all blame me and think I'm cruel and heartless…"

"Our friends don't think that," Combeferre interrupted, unwilling to let Enjolras go down that path, "and you know they don't."

"Of course they do; and I don't blame them for it. They have every right to be mad at me for what I did to our friend. I'm the reason Grantaire is lying here unconscious!" Enjolras was beginning to work himself up into a furor.

"Enj, calm down. That isn't going to help any," Combeferre said, waiting for his friend's breathing to return to normal before continuing. "Courf told me most of what was said today at the café. I think our friends are, like you, just trying to figure everything out. They're all upset, and they have every right to be upset, because of what happened. But, we don't really know for sure what happened, and we won't until Grantaire wakes up. We can all go around trying to blame one another, or ourselves, but I don't think that is really going to solve anything."

"But it is my fault. I yelled at him. I hurt him. He did this because of me."

"Ok, fine. Let's say that is true. What are you going to do about it?"

"What?" Enjolras asked, stunned by where the conversation was going.

"What are you going to do about it? Personally, I don't think you are completely to blame. We all made mistakes last night and probably before that as well that led to this. But even if it's true and you are the only one responsible for everything, the question is the same. What are you going to do now to try to correct it?" Combeferre said. Enjolras didn't respond right away, so he continued, "Because it is largely up to you where we go from here. Does our group of friends just disband? Do we forget about the people and the revolution we've been working towards? Or do we pick up the pieces, make amends with one another, and continue working towards the future you've talked about for so long, while also making sure this doesn't happen again?"

Enjolras took a few minutes to think about it before answering. "I…I don't want our group to disband. I need our friends, all of them. And I don't want us to give up on the revolution. It is the only hope we or the people have for a brighter, better future. So we, I, need to do something to fix this so it doesn't happen again, and so we can all get back to work."

"Ok," Combeferre said, smiling once more, "let's think about how we can do that."

"I'm open to suggestions," Enjolras said back, also smiling slightly.

"Well, I suppose a lot of it will depend on what happens when Grantaire wakes up. There is a lot of uncertainty surrounding him right now, and that isn't going to change until we can talk to him. Until then, I suggest you talk with our other friends, actually talk with them. See what's going on with each of them and see what we can do to ease the tension."

"How do I do that?"

"Well…take Courf for example. He's still blaming himself for causing the argument last night and so he thinks himself responsible for everything that happened. Go, talk to him, and tell him what I've told you. He's not responsible, but even if he is it's better to think of how to correct the problem then just sitting around blaming himself."

"What about Eponine? She blames me; she hates me, if we're being honest."

Combeferre sighed slightly before answering. "Eponine and Grantaire are close, they have been for a long time."

"Really?" Enjolras asked, surprised.

"Yes, but that is their story to tell."

"Wait. Are they in a relationship?" Enjorlas interjected, afraid of what the answer to his question might be.

"No, it's not like that. But I can't really say any more than that, you'll just have to talk to them about it. The point is Eponine is very protective of Grantaire, so of course she is angry and upset about all of this. It's probably best to just let her be for now; she'll come around once Grantaire wakes up."

"Ok," Enjolras said, once again surprised to be learning so much about people he thought he knew so well. _On the bright side,_ he thought, _they aren't in a relationship…Enjolras, what are you saying? You can't really be entertaining the idea of becoming involved with him, can you? There's no way he is interested in you, or would be after what you did. And you don't even know where you stand, all of this is happening so quickly. Not to mention it would be…_

"Enj? Hello, are you still with me?" Combeferre interrupted his internal ramblings.

"Sorry, just thinking," he replied sheepishly.

"Uh-huh, so I can see. Care to tell me what you were thinking about?"

"Um, it's nothing. Don't worry about it," Enjolras answered, turning slightly red in the face.

"I'm not sure I can do that," Combeferre said, intrigued by this turn of events, "Enj, what has got you all worked up?"

"Nothing!" Enjolras said, desperately wanting to move to a different topic.

"Enjolras, you're in love," Combeferre said quietly, shocked by the discovery and unsure of what else to say.

"What? No I'm not!" Enjolras nearly shouted, turning redder in the face and scooting his chair back against the wall, "That's ridiculous, I have too much to do to be in love. France is my only love."

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you my friend," Combeferre said, shaking his head slightly in a daze, "I know you too well. You are in love. I never would have believed it though, not if I hadn't seen it in your eyes for myself. How long have you been in love with her?"

Enjolras stared at the floor as his friend continued speaking, knowing his secret had been discovered. "I don't know, it kind of just dawned on me, though I suppose I've known for awhile and been too afraid to admit it," he said, then the last part of what Combeferre said fully sunk in and his head shot back up, "wait, her…who do you think I am in love with?"

Combeferre looked even more surprised, if that was possible. "Well, Eponine of course. She's the one we were talking about. But I guess that isn't the case?"

"No, no, it's Eponine," Enjolras said hurriedly, kicking himself inside for not being fast enough to go with the lie and hoping he could convince Combeferre to leave it there.

"Right…" he said sarcastically, scratching his head as he thought aloud, "it's not Eponine. So who are you in love with?" Enjolras gave up, and returned to staring at the floor, this time in shame as his friend drew closer to the truth, afraid of what would happen when he figured it out.

"If not Eponine, then who? 'Chetta is the only other girl in our group, but she's already taken – twice. I don't think it's her. Who else could it be…no, it can't be!" he exclaimed suddenly, and Enjolras buried his head in his hands knowing what was coming next.

"Enj, you aren't in love with Grantaire, are you?" Combeferre asked quietly, surpassing his shocked expression from earlier to become the most surprised he had ever been in his life. Enjolras couldn't look up; he couldn't move, he couldn't speak. Having someone else say it aloud, the fear of how his best friend, and really of how all of his friends, would react to finding out, was all too much. A single tear worked its way out of his eye as he waited with bated breath for how Combeferre would take it, bracing himself for the rejection he was sure was coming.

Enj…" Combeferre began, but before he could say anymore his blond friend was on the move. Enjolras, afraid of what was coming next, bolted. He raced past his friend, through the bedroom door, and out of the apartment before Combeferre could fully realize he was moving. "Enj, wait!" he cried out after him as he ran to the front door, but by that time it was too late, the revolutionary was lost to the growing darkness outside.


	12. An Overdue Conversation Part 2

Grantaire, Grow Up

A/N: Happy New Year's everyone! I'm sorry this has taken so long, school and work have been a little overwhelming the last month or so. I'm hoping to get back to work on this more here in the near future, so hopefully more chapters will be coming up soon. Read and review please! And if you have any comments or suggestions let me know, I'm always on the lookout for new ideas, or just to know what others think about this crazy idea. Thanks for sticking with me!

Chapter 12: An Overdue Conversation Part 2

 _Enj…" Combeferre began, but before he could say anymore his blond friend was on the move. Enjolras, afraid of what was coming next, bolted. He raced past his friend, through the bedroom door, and out of the apartment before Combeferre could fully realize he was moving. "Enj, wait!" he cried out after him as he ran to the front door, but by that time it was too late, the revolutionary was lost to the growing darkness outside._

-o-

"Ferre! What is going on?" Joly cried out from his seat on the floor as he looked up at his friend. "Why is Enjolras running away? What happened?"

Combeferre came to a stop at doorway, staring at the spot where his best friend had disappeared into the dark hallway beyond. Joly jumped up from his spot and came to rest a hand on his friend's shoulder, bringing him back to reality. "What? What did you say?" Combeferre asked, slightly dazed.

"What is going on? I thought you said you knew what you were doing. What happened?" Joly's temper was rising, and he shook slightly as he questioned his friend.

"I…I don't know, Joly. There is a lot more going on than I expected."

"Not good enough, Ferre. What happened?"

"I'm sorry my friend. I truly am. But I can't tell you…" Combeferre began.

"What do you mean you can't tell me! He's my friend too you know! If he's running off to go do something stupid I need to know," Joly was half shouting by this point.

"Please Joly, be calm!" Combeferre said, voice also rising. "I don't know for sure what he is going to do, but I am positive he's not going to hurt himself."

"How? How can you be sure?"

"I…I just know. Whatever is going on in Enjolras' mind, I know that is not a part of it. It can't be."

"Why? Why can't it be?"

"Because he promised me that would never happen again!" Combeferre shouted. Joly immediately fell silent, and Combeferre recoiled slightly at what he had accidentally revealed. _No going back now,_ he thought to himself before continuing. "Enj and I have been friends since we were kids, we have always been together. His father was, well, not the greatest father in the world, and when he was 10 I caught Enj trying to kill himself. I stopped him, and later when we talked about what all was going on he promised me he would never do anything like that again. He promised me that no matter what was going on, no matter how bad he felt or how bad things got, even if that was the one thing going through his mind, he would come find me and talk to me first. He promised…" Combeferre trailed off again, staring past Joly as though looking back to the past, to a conversation he had never wanted to have, a conversation that had brought the two friends so close together.

Joly too was lost, struck by what he had heard and unsure of what to do next. When it became obvious Combeferre was not going to continue, Joly broke the silence instead. "Ferre, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Combeferre landed back in reality, grabbing his friend's shoulder, "You have to promise you won't tell any of the others. Enj and I agreed a long time ago that all of that was in the past. He won't be happy to hear I've told you, and he definitely won't want the rest to know. Promise me you will keep this between us."

"I will, I promise. Don't worry about that," Joly said quickly. "But what are we going to do about Enjolras? Where did he go?"

Combeferre paused again, arms falling limp to his side and shoulders hunched. "I think…I should go after him. He won't be happy to see me, but I know I need to be the one to find him and talk to him about…all of this."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Combeferre looked up again, catching his friend's eye and said with a small smile, "thanks Joly, but I don't think so. This is between him and me for right now. I don't know him as well as I thought I did, and we have a very overdue conversation that needs to take place. Will you be alright here alone?"

"Of course, I'm overdue to check on Grantaire anyway," Joly said, feigning confidence as he waved his friend out the door. "Besides, one of the others is bound to turn up sooner or later. We'll be fine here, don't worry about that."

"Are you sure?" Combeferre asked, hesitating at the doorway as his friend half pushed him out, "This is already a big enough mess as it is, I don't want to make it worse."

Joly stopped, instead staring directly at Combeferre, "Go, my friend. Our leader needs you more than I do. Help him, as only you can."

Combeferre hesitated a moment more in indecision before making up his mind, turning, and taking off out the door at a run himself. "Thanks Joly," he called over his shoulder, "I'll check in later on when I can!"

Joly shut the door once Combeferre was out of sight, turned so his back rested against it, and slumped to the floor, tears falling silently down his cheeks. _What has happened to us? Why is all of this going on?_ He brooded for a minute or two before steeling himself to get up and get back to work. _I can at least make sure Grantaire comes out of this as healthy as possible,_ he said to himself as he gathered some of his supplies and made his way towards the bedroom. _And I can hope the same is true for the rest of us._

-o-

 _This can't be happening!_ Enjolras screamed inside his head as he ran through the streets of Paris. _How can this be happening? How can I have let this happen?_ Enjolras raced through alleys and sidestreets, hardly paying attention to where he was going, instead letting his feet carry him where they may. His mind was a mess, a whirlpool barely able to form a thought, and all of the ones he could create led back to the same devastating idea. _I've lost my best friend; I've lost my brother._ Soon he found himself standing outside the Café Musain. The café had always been a sanctuary and refuge for him in the past, the place to shut out the darkness of the past, to escape the horrors of the present, and to dream of a brighter, beautiful future. _Now all of that is gone,_ he thought as he gazed through the window at the empty chairs and empty table in the corner. _Life has killed the dream I dreamed, and I have only myself to blame._ As he stared into the void of what had once been his safe haven, he was startled out of his reverie by movement in the back. Musichetta walked out of the backroom, talking with someone over her shoulder. He could not see who she was talking to, but seeing her walk through the backroom door brought back the haunting memory of the evening before.

 _"I said," Grantaire began, looking up to meet Enjolras' gaze, "that I believe in you."_

 _"Oh don't give me that. If you truly believed in me like you claim you would change. You would give up the alcohol, you would take up our cause with honor. But you haven't done either of those things. You are the same bumbling, stumbling fool who walked in here almost a year ago and started a debate. That's all you ever do, that's all you've ever been. I don't understand why you are here, why you keep coming back. For that matter, I don't understand what you are doing with your life. Our little lives don't mean a thing to the political tyrants of our land, but your life just simply doesn't seem to mean anything at all. Your lack of belief means you have no purpose, no reason to live. Grantaire, you are just a child. You need to grow up!"_

 _Grantaire was on his feet and at the opposite end of the table before anyone could register what happened. He grabbed Enjolras by the lapels of his shirt and shoved him up against the wall. Seething, he drew close to the blond man and half shouted at him, "don't ever say those words to me again! You know nothing about me!"_

The memory brought new waves of emotion and nausea, and he shook his head to clear them away. As he looked back up through the window he saw the person Musichetta had been talking to. It was Eponine, and another memory stirred.

" _Of course not, you aren't to blame. But someone is. One person in particular," Eponine replied, voice rising with her temper._

" _Eponine stop!" Jehan cried out suddenly, as all eyes in the room turned from Eponine to the man walking through the café door; but it was ineffective._

" _It's all Enjolras' fault! If he hadn't been so heartless Grantaire would not have tried to kill himself. But we all know it's not as if he cares at all. He's probably happy to have Grantaire not here to bother him for a while."_

" _That's not true."_ It was the only thing he had been able to come up with for a rebuttal to the stinging, piercing of his heart her words had caused. _It's not true,_ he thought to himself again. _I do care. I care too much. I want my Grantaire back._

"I want him back!" he shouted suddenly into the silent street around him. He quickly looked up, embarrassed, but realized he was alone, no one was there to hear him. _I am all alone,_ he thought to himself, _and now I always will be alone._ He turned to look into the café one last time, but it was deserted once more. _Empty chairs at empty tables, all my friends are gone._ He took off at a run once more, blindly making his way through the streets and letting his feet carry him wherever they may lead.

He reached his own apartment in record time, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him before making for his bedroom and collapsing onto his bed. _Combeferre hates me now, how did he even figure it out? I guess it doesn't really matter, I can never speak to him again anyway. What am I going to do now? There's no way I can go on without my brother to help guide me. And what of the others? They will react the same way. I've lost them all, every friend I have in this world is gone. I am alone._ He dissolved into tears at the thought and buried his head into his pillow. His sobbing grew uncontrollable, and soon he was shaking as he wept, lost in his misery and unaware of the world around him. Until he felt a familiar arm grab his shoulder and pull him into a tight embrace, dragging him back to reality.

"Combeferre!" He yelled, recoiling away from the hug until his back was against the wall, "What are you…how did…why…where…" His brain was overloaded with questions and confusion, but he finally decided to avoid it all and settle on an easy one. "how did you get in here?"

Combeferre sat down on the edge of the bed a safe distance away, hoping to calm his friend down enough to talk to him, "Enj, I have a key to your apartment. You gave it to me when you first moved in here, remember?"

Enjolras wracked his brain, which seemed to continue failing him at every turn, until the proper memory surfaced. He relaxed enough to sit back down on the bed himself, though still keeping some distance between them. "Ok, right. Why did you come?" This question was directed to the floor, as he couldn't bring himself to look up at his friend. He was afraid of what the answer might be.

Combeferre did not answer right away. He took his glasses off and rubbed his forehead as he contemplated the best way to answer the question. When he put his glasses back on, he noticed the hesitation was not helping Enjolras' nerves any, so he quickly said, "I'm sorry Enj. I'm sorry for everything. It's like you said earlier, so much has happened in one day that I'm just trying to process it all. But please don't take that to mean I've stopped caring about you, or that I won't be your friend anymore. You and I are brothers, and nothing is going to change that."

Enjolras looked up. He was a mess once more, face stained with tears that were still falling freely, hair matted and disheveled in places. But his expression was hopeful, he wanted to believe what Combeferre said was true; but he still hesitated, afraid of what might be coming. "Do you really mean it?" he asked finally, daring to make eye contact briefly. It was enough, he found the confirmation he needed in Combeferre's eyes, and began to relax as friend answered.

"Of course I do. I made a promise to you when you were 10 that I would always be here for you, and nothing is going to make me go back on my word. I promise you." Enjolras hesitated a moment more before finally allowing himself to believe his oldest friend. Combeferre held his arms outstretched to the blond revolutionary, and this time Enjolras gladly fell into the embrace. Combeferre held the younger man tightly as he wept against his shoulder. _We have a long road ahead of us,_ he thought silently to himself as he wound his fingers through the blond locks absentmindedly, _but we will get through this together. I promise._ Soon the weight of the world, the lack of sleep, the stress of all that had gone on caught up with him. He allowed himself to lean back against the tear-soaked pillow and, within moments, had fallen fast asleep with his best friend held closely against his side.

It was some time before Enjolras had calmed back down enough to realize his friend was no longer awake. He chuckled slightly at the sight, knowing Combeferre hated to be seen sleeping. "Sleep well, my friend. You've earned it," he whispered softly as he untangled himself and sat back up on the bed.

 _Perhaps all is not completely lost,_ he thought to himself, staring off in the darkness and contemplating in the silence. _I was a fool for thinking Combeferre would abandon me. I am not alone after all._


	13. Enjolras' Dilemma

Grantaire, Grow Up

A/N: Hey everyone, thanks for being patient with me. This one was a bit of a challenge to think through, and I've been busier than expected lately as well. Bear with me a little longer, let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far. And I promise Grantaire will be rejoining the story soon!

Chapter 13: Enjolras' Dilemma

 _It was some time before Enjolras had calmed back down enough to realize his friend was no longer awake. He chuckled slightly at the sight, knowing Combeferre hated to be seen sleeping. "Sleep well, my friend. You've earned it," he whispered softly as he untangled himself and sat back up on the bed._

 _Perhaps all is not completely lost, he thought to himself, staring off in the darkness and contemplating in the silence. I was a fool for thinking Combeferre would abandon me. I am not alone after all._

-o-

 _I am not alone._ He repeated the words silently to himself as he got up. A smile slowly formed as he repositioned his friend so he would be more comfortable, covered him with a blanket, and left the room. Night had fully fallen, and he was forced to light a candle to see what he was doing in the main room of his apartment. For awhile he sat in a chair, lost in thought. _I am not alone._ After everything that had happened, the words brought a great deal of comfort to Enjolras. _There is still hope for the future after all; we can do this together, the Les Amis will go on. And…maybe Grantaire will make sure I am never alone again._ His thoughts quickly became a daydream, a very pleasant, happy one. And that quickly became a real dream as he drifted off to sleep himself, curled up in his chair.

-o-

Enjolras awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. As he glanced around, he realized it must be morning. His candle had long since burned out and the light in the room instead was coming through the window, bright and clear. He gazed around contentedly as the remnants of his dream wore off. Then the memories from the day before made their way back into his mind. Some of them happy – he reminded himself again _I am not alone._ Some of them not so much – the memories of Combeferre finding out his secret, of running away terrified, returning to haunt him once more.

The memories reminded him also that Combeferre was here, he had left his friend asleep in the bedroom, so Enjolras quickly got up to go check on his friend. He found, instead, an empty room. _Did he leave? Surely he would have said good-bye?_ Then the smell of coffee hit him again. _Of course, he's in the kitchen!_ Deciding not to tell Combeferre about his momentary stupidity, he made his way to join his friend in the adjacent room.

"Good morning Enj," Combeferre said, handing his friend a steaming cup when he saw him come in.

"Morning," Enjolras replied, gratefully accepting the cup and sitting down at the small table across from his friend. "How long have you been up?"

"I'm not sure, awhile. I didn't want to disturb you, so I've been in here reading. I sent a message to Joly telling him where we were and that I'd be by later on; I wish I hadn't fallen asleep last night, the poor man has probably worried himself sick not knowing what's going on."

"Oh," was all Enjolras could think to say in reply. He continued to sip his drink, waiting for his friend to continue.

Combeferre, instead, simply watched the younger man. He thought of a thousand things he wanted to say, but could not decide which to say first, or how best to say them, and so instead he too remained silent, hoping Enjolras would speak up. After several minutes, when it became clear that was not going to happen, Combeferre took a deep breath, sighed, and began. "Enj, I don't really know how to say this or do this, so I need your help here. I think…I think we need to talk…about yesterday."

Enjolras tensed immediately, wincing as though he were being hit by what Combeferre was saying. "Is that really necessary? Can't we just go on and pretend it didn't happen?"

"No Enj, I don't think so…"

"Please Combeferre," Enjolras interrupted, half begging his friend, "please. Everything has been so crazy lately, and we were both exhausted. I didn't know what I was saying, I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just upset and worried because of everything that's happened, that's all. Once it all gets back to normal it will be forgotten, so let's just forget about it now…"

"Julien Enjolras, that is enough." Combeferre didn't yell; in fact, it barely came out as more than a whisper. But the use of his full name silenced Enjolras immediately. Only Combeferre did that; and he only did it when he was absolutely serious about something. Enjolras looked down, watching his hands and afraid to make eye contact. _I don't want to do this, I don't know what to say._

Combeferre watched the younger man tense up, ashamed. _I hate doing this to you, my friend. I wish we could just pretend like nothing happened. But that isn't possible._ He took another deep breath, then scooted his chair closer so he could put his arm on the blond revolutionary's shoulder. "Enj, I understand you don't want to do this. And I get why it will be difficult, I do. But I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on, and I think you really need someone to help you right now. You know I will always be your friend; I promise you, nothing you say is going to make me question that or change that. But I can't be your friend if you don't talk to me."

The room went silent once more. Combeferre had never wished more that he could read minds so he could see what was going on in the other's head. Instead he remained silent himself, letting the younger man process what he has said and waiting for him to make his decision. He also firmly kept his hand on the other's shoulder, hoping it would help Enjolras understand he was not going to go anywhere.

"Why?" It came about as barely a whisper, almost inaudible. If Combeferre hadn't been completely focused, he would have missed it entirely. Enjolras had stopped fidgeting with his cup and gone completely still. Combeferre waited a moment more, hoping he would go on.

"Why what?" he asked finally. The room stayed silent for several more moments. "Enj, you got to help me out here. I can't answer your question unless I know what you are asking."

Enjolras finally spoke, again very quietly. He refused to look up, instead directing what he was saying at his coffee cup. "Why do you want to be my friend? Why do you want to help me? I don't understand; I'm not worth it."

Combeferre's heart broke at that. He had no idea how to respond, so instead he wrapped his arms around his friend once more, holding him tightly. "Enj, of course you are worth it. You mean so much to me, you always have. I want to help you, and I want to be your friend, because you are worth it. I've told you before, you are not a burden. You are not worthless. You don't have to go through this alone."

"I'm not alone," Enjolras repeated, again almost silently.

"No, you are not alone. And you never have to be."

Enjolras finally looked back up, searching his friend for confirmation. He gave a small smile, then settled back in his chair slightly. "Thank you, my friend. I do not deserve your friendship and loyalty, but I am grateful for it."

Combeferre too leaned back, letting go of his friend. "I think you do deserve it, but I am happy to give it even if you don't. You will always be my friend, until the day we die. Nothing can change that."

"I hope you are right," Enjolras said, still worried but growing more comfortable with the idea of talking to his most trusted companion.

Combeferre wanted to chastise him more for his hesitancy, but thought better of it. They sat in silence again, until he could not take it anymore. "Ok Enj, are you ready to tell me what's going on?"

"No," Enjolras said quietly, looking down once more. "But," he continued, looking back up, "I don't think I ever will be. So I guess now is as good a time as any."

"I understand," Combeferre replied, smiling slightly as his friend gathered the resolve necessary to do this. "I'm right here. Take as much time as you need, I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you again, my friend." Enjolras took another minute or two to gather his thoughts, then he began. Once he started, once the dam broke, it all just came out at once. Combeferre sat silently and listened to it all. He wanted to interject several times, but held himself back so Enjolras could keep going unhindered.

"I guess…I guess it all starts with the night before last, at the café. When Grantaire and I got into an argument. I don't really know what happened to me to set me off on him like that; I do sincerely regret that. Something he said really hit me though; he said 'you know nothing about me.' After he left, when we were on our way to his apartment, it sunk in. I really don't know anything about him; I didn't even know where he lived. And then you asked me about that, you reminded me that I know where all the Amis live, I've been to everyone's home. I spend time with all of our friends. Except Grantaire; I've been avoiding him. I didn't even realize I was doing it, and I had no idea why I was doing it.

"And then we got to his apartment, and I saw him lying there, not knowing whether he was alive or dead. I felt so helpless, there was nothing I could do, it seemed like he was gone. And I realized that I cared about him; I realized I would miss him, that I want him in my life. I couldn't stand the thought of losing him. And then I found the letter. He must have been writing it as he was waiting for the…poison to take over. Or maybe he started it before taking it, I don't know. But he had been thinking about me. It said he wanted to tell me something. I didn't know what to think about that. Part of me was excited that he wanted to talk to me still, that he was thinking of me. And part of me was terrified that I wouldn't get to talk to him again, and that it would be my fault because I drove him to that point.

"After you guys got the poison out you asked me to help you take Grantaire to his bed, get him cleaned and change his clothes. It was the closest I had ever been to him, and I noticed that I…liked being close to him. I liked feeling his skin, and his hair. I know that sounds terrible. I don't know why it happened, or how. I always thought I was immune to those kinds of thoughts. It's never happened before, I've never felt this way about anyone, a man or a woman. For years I've thought that France, that Patria, would be my only love in life. After everything my father did I didn't think it would be possible for me to love; I thought I had shut all of that out. But somehow he got past my defenses and barriers. And now I can't help it.

"I went home that night and Grantaire was all I could think about. I woke up yesterday morning and Grantaire was all I could think about. When Eponine said I don't care and I'm happy to have Grantaire out of my way I wanted to scream at her and tell her how much I do care and how much I want him to be with me for the rest of my life. When I came to his apartment, originally I was going to talk with you. I knew I needed to. But I was afraid. I was afraid of how you would react, I was afraid of losing you and being on my own. So instead I went with your suggestion to go talk to Grantaire, even though he is unconscious. When I was all alone with him, it fully hit me. I was talking to him, telling him how I don't understand him and how I want to. And it just came out. I…I love him.

"I don't know why. I don't know how. I don't understand where these feelings are coming from. I wish I could just get rid of them. But I can't. It makes me happy to think about him, or when I think about being with him. I have no idea what I am going to do, Combeferre. I need your help."

Enjolras stopped talking, and the room went silent once again. Combeferre sat, slightly stunned by everything his friend had said. Enjolras was feeling embarrassed about having it all out in the open, and still afraid of how his friend would take it. So he sat quiet and still, waiting to see what the verdict would be. Combeferre seemed either unable or unwilling to speak, and finally the tension became too much for Enjolras.

"Please, Ferre. I need you to say something. If you are mad at me, or if you want to leave and stop being my friend, ok. I just…I need you to say something, I need you to tell me."

It broke Combeferre's reverie, and he quickly replied, saying, "That's not it, Enj. That's not it at all. I promised you we would always be friends, and nothing, I repeat, nothing is going to change that. It's just, I don't know what to say. I'm not sure how to help you."

"Oh," was all Enjolras could think to say. He was relieved by what Combeferre said, but also somewhat frustrated. The older man had always been his guide, his source of wisdom, in the past. This was the first time he had ever been completely speechless.

"I guess your dilemma, at its core, is a decision you have to make," Combeferre said after a while. "You have these feelings. If there isn't anything you can do to make them go away, you have to decide what you are going to do with them instead."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, are you going to act on them? Are you going to tell Grantaire how you feel, when he is actually awake and can hear you, or are you going to keep it to yourself?"

"Oh," Enjolras said again, this time surprised. "I hadn't really thought it through. I'm still learning what it feels like to even be in love."

Combeferre laughed at that slightly, "Yeah, it is rather shocking. I'm trying to get over the thought of you being in love too. I still say I never would have guessed it."

"Hmph," Enjolras snorted slightly in mock indignation, crossing his arms over his chest. It felt good for the atmosphere to become more relaxed and friendly again. _Maybe it won't be so bad after all, having Ferre know my secret._

"Actually, though," Combeferre started again, this time more serious, "I think there is a little more too your dilemma than that."

"What do you mean? What else can there be?" Enjolras asked, growing concerned again.

"Well," Combeferre said, trying to be as delicate as possible, "You know I will always be your friend. I don't know how Grantaire will respond if you decide to tell him, so that's one thing to consider. I think he will take it well, even if he doesn't feel the same way about you. And I think the rest of our friends will be ok with it too. If something happens between you two or if you just tell him and then go on like normal, I don't think they will have a problem with it…" he trailed off slightly.

"But?" Enjolras said, after a few seconds of silence.

"But," Combeferre started again, slightly sheepish and trying to be as gentle as possible, "there is also the revolution to consider. You are our leader, and you already said you want our group to stay intact and you want to keep fighting for the future. You know as well, perhaps better, than I that for the revolution to succeed we will need the people of France on our side. They have to rise to fight alongside us, or else we will be left alone at the barricades and our cause will be pointless…"

"And?" Enjolras interjected again.

"And…I'm not sure how the people would respond to a revolution leader who was also a homosexual. They might not want to follow you because of it. They might see it as just a different form of corruption. And, well, we have too many corrupt leaders already; that's why we need the revolution in the first place."

"Oh," was Enjolras' response once more. He looked slightly dejected, crestfallen, and it pained Combeferre to see his friend crushed once more when he had been becoming excited and alive again.

"I am sorry, Enj. It's possible I'm wrong, it might not make any difference to the people. Or they might want the change badly enough that they will be willing to go along with us and fight for freedom regardless. It's hard to say what could happen."

"No, you are right Ferre. If I am open about how I feel, it will jeopardize everything we have worked so hard to build. The people would never choose to follow a homosexual leader, that's all there is to it. I can't let them know. I can't let anyone know." He hung his head in shame at that, and looked almost on the verge of tears once more.

"Well…" Combeferre said, thinking though alternative ideas, hoping to come up with something to help his younger friend. It hurt him to see the revolutionary so crushed after he had just been so hopeful.

"Well, what?" Enjolras asked, looking back up but not daring to get his hopes up.

"There is a third option…You could still tell Grantaire and our friends, but keep it a secret between us. It is not ideal, you would basically become two people – the one your friends see and the one everyone else sees. But, especially if Grantaire feels the same way you do, it would be a way for you to love and be loved in return without jeopardizing the revolution."

Enjolras' face lit up at the thought as Combeferre went on. "And then, who knows. Maybe if the revolution is successful there will come a time in the future when you can change how people think about it. And you can be more open about it."

"So I suppose those are my only real options. Either ignore it for the sake of the revolution, go with it and lose the revolution, or make the revolution my public life and this my private life. I'm not sure I really like any of those options, to be honest."

"I know, Enj. None of them are ideal. Who knows, maybe another option will present itself in the next few days, we'll just have to wait and see. I want you to know I am right here with you every step of the way, though. And I will continue to be by your side no matter what you choose." Enjolras looked at his friend with a newfound appreciation, lost in thought about the dilemma before him and the choice he would inevitably have to make. _This is not going to be easy._


	14. Entr'acte

Grantaire, Grow Up

A/N: Hi everyone. First, let me apologize for the extremely long delay in adding to this story. Things have been absolutely ridiculous around here lately. But, with any luck, I'll be able to work more regularly on this during the summer. Second, let me say thank you to the support and encouragement you all have given me. I can't tell you how much it means to me. Third, I hope you like this, or at least I hope it helps. Entr'acte is a musical/theatre term, in case you were wondering; it means "between the acts," and that's basically what this chapter is, tying up a few things from the previous chapters and laying a little ground work for what is coming up next. I promise the next couple of chapters are going to be a bit more exciting. Fourth, as always, I would love to hear any comments or feedback you have. I've got a good idea of where we are going, but I'd love any suggestions you might have on how to get there, what you like and don't like, etc. Thank you again for your support and for reading. Enjoy!

Chapter 14: Entr'acte

 _"So I suppose those are my only real options. Either ignore it for the sake of the revolution, go with it and lose the revolution, or make the revolution my public life and this my private life. I'm not sure I really like any of those options, to be honest."_

 _"I know, Enj. None of them are ideal. Who knows, maybe another option will present itself in the next few days, we'll just have to wait and see. I want you to know I am right here with you every step of the way, though. And I will continue to be by your side no matter what you choose." Enjolras looked at his friend with a newfound appreciation, lost in thought about the dilemma before him and the choice he would inevitably have to make. This is not going to be easy._

-o-

"So what do I do now? What's the next step?" Enjolras asked.

"I'm not sure I can answer that question, my friend. It's up to you to decide what your next step is." Combeferre replied with a faint smile.

"That's not very helpful," Enjolras said, smirking.

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't," Combeferre said cheekily, smile widening at Enjolras' bemused expression. "Seriously, though, that is a question you will have to answer on your own. I can't tell you what to do next."

"Oh, right," was the only reply.

Combeferre sighed slightly, knowing his friend would not be satisfied with his answer. "I suppose I can help you come up with a few ideas…"

"That'd be great!"

"But that's all I can do, you have to be the one to choose what you are going to do."

"Fair enough," Enjolras replied. He got up to refill their coffee cups, then sitting back down continued, "so what ideas do you have?"

Combeferre shook his head slightly in mock exasperation and took his glasses off to rub his forehead before answering. "Ok, well there are several things all kind of happening at once, so you need to decide what you want to prioritize."

"Right…like what?"

"Well, one thing you need to do is sort out all of your feelings for Grantaire…" Enjolras blushed and squirmed slightly at the remark, but remained silent. "For example, since it is all so sudden, you need to decide if these…attractions…are actually genuine, or if it's just a knee-jerk response to the craziness that has been going on. If they aren't genuine, then it'll probably go away soon and you would be better off just leaving it alone; if they are genuine, you need to decide which of those options we talked about you want to pursue. It would probably be a good idea to use the time that Grantaire is unconscious to work through some of that."

"Right, good. So I need to figure out what I'm feeling and what to do about it."

"Yes, you do," Combeferre continued, speaking slowly and carefully as he thought about what else to say." But like I said earlier, there is more to think about than just your feelings. You need to decide where you stand with the revolution, with our friends, and so on. Do you want to continue leading Les Amis in the fight for freedom? Do you want to open up to our friends about what you are feeling?"

"Ok, so I need to ask myself some questions. What else?" Enjolras looked imploringly at his friend, hopeful for more advice.

"I think it might also be a good idea to decide what you want to do about helping our friends through their own problems. Courfeyrac is blaming himself for what happened, Joly is struggling to keep it together, Eponine is really upset about it all. In truth we all are. Are you going to talk to them and help them with their struggles? Or do you want to wait and let things calm down a bit, maybe stay out of the picture until they settle down?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. Which do you think I should do?" Enjolras replied, hopefully.

"I wasn't expecting you to answer it all now," Combeferre said with a chuckle, "but that is all the more I can help you with. You have to be the one to answer it…" Enjolras looked a little crestfallen at that. "My advice would be to take things slowly. Maybe take the rest of the day and spend it on your own working through some of this. You said it yourself that part of the problem is that you reacted too quickly. And Courfeyrac said you are postponing the Les Amis meetings indefinitely. Other than school, you don't have anything else going on that I know of. So use that to your advantage."

"You are right as always, my friend," Enjolras said, brooding. "But I can't tell you how much I wish you would just tell me what to do."

"I know, Enj, I know. But you wouldn't be able to lead if I made all of your decisions for you. And I don't think you will be able to resolve anything here if I make the decisions for you either. I can offer advice, I can help you come up with ideas. If you need help with doing something, I will go with you. I will support you every step of the way and do my best to guide you when I can. But ultimately, it is up to you."

Enjolras was silent for a moment, thinking. Finally he said, "Thank you, Ferre. I don't know what I ever did to deserve such a great friend as you; but I want you to know how much it means to me that you are here, helping me."

Combeferre smiled. "I made you a promise, remember? And I intend to keep it. Besides, you've been a good friend to me all these years as well. You mean more to me than I can tell you also."

They both sat in silence once more, but a much more comfortable one than before. The tension was gone, for the time being, and they relaxed, enjoying their coffee and one another's presence. It felt like old times.

Combeferre finished his coffee and, after giving his younger friend one more hug for encouragement, darted back to Grantaire's apartment to give Joly some time to rest as well and put his mind at ease. The rest of the day passed easily enough for Enjolras. He found himself alone once more. _But it's different now,_ he thought to himself, _I'm different now. And with Ferre's help, I can get through this, I can figure it out. Small victories, it's how the war is won._ After refilling his cup again, he decided to settle in at his desk with paper, pen, and ink to think through and sort out his thoughts, and perhaps make a few plans. _Perhaps when Ferre comes back he can help me make sense of all of this,_ he mused to himself. A soft smile spread across his face as he worked, and thoughts of a certain cynic played through the back of his mind.

-o-

Combeferre arrived at Grantaire's apartment soon afterwards and knocked impatiently on the door. Impatience turned to surprise when Jehan, not Joly, opened the door.

"Hi Ferre! I'm glad you're back!" the younger man said, quickly giving his bespectacled friend a hug. "How is Enjolras?"

"What? Sorry, Jehan, your caught me off guard."

"Oh, that's ok. I guess you were probably expecting Joly to be here." Combeferre nodded. "Well, I came by last night after talking with Courfeyrac, and I found Joly going a little crazy. You know how he gets when he is worried. After he calmed down a bit I made him tell me what was going on and he told me about Enjolras being here and getting upset and running away and how you went after him to try to talk to him. Joly didn't know if you had been successful or not and he was getting worried because he hadn't heard from you. I told him not to worry and that you probably had everything under control. Not long after that 'Chetta stopped in, and I made him go back home with her and promised to let him know if I heard from you. Then I sent him a note saying you had sent a message that everything was ok and under control, for him not to worry and that you would be by to take over soon."

"But I didn't send a note saying that…"

"I know that. But I figured it wouldn't hurt to put his mind at ease and let him get some rest. Besides, I knew it would be true, and I did get your actual message this morning," Jehan said with a slight shrug and characteristic grin. The grin faded slightly after a moment, "It is true, though, right?"

"Oh, yes, I think so," Combeferre replied hastily. "Enj has a lot to think about, but he is doing a lot better. I think he is going to stay home today though and work on some stuff."

"Good!" Jehan said, grin returning. "Now, why don't you actually come inside so you can check on Grantaire. I think he is doing fine also, at least I don't think anything has changed, but I don't have your expertise."

Combeferre gave the younger man a pat on the back, "Thank you, Jehan. I don't know what any of us would do without your encouragement and help."

Jehan blushed sheepishly, "I just want to make sure my friends are all ok. These past couple of days have been rough with everyone being so out of sorts and upset. I just want things to go back to normal."

That makes about 10 of us, I think," Combeferre said with a sigh as he walked into the apartment. _This place is beginning to feel like a second home,_ he thought to himself.

"Have you eaten yet, Ferre?" Jehan asked as Combeferre went into the bedroom, "I'd be happy to make something while you check on him."

"Thanks Jehan," he replied over his shoulder, "I ate breakfast a while ago, but an early lunch might not be a bad idea. Perhaps some soup would be good, we need to try to keep Grantaire fed and hydrated until he wakes up."

With that, the two set off to their respective tasks. Combeferre gave his unconscious friend a thorough examination, deciding that the man was doing well, all things considered. Eponine and Marius showed up while Jehan was cooking, and he quickly doubled the amount he was making so there would be enough for all of them. The four friends enjoyed their lunch together around the little table in the main room, after which Eponine insisted on being the one to feed Grantaire. No one argued with her.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. Before evening Joly and Musichetta had joined the group as well. Combeferre apologized profusely to his hypochondriac friend, explaining he had gotten caught up in the conversation with Enjolras and had actually fallen asleep before he had the opportunity to send a message to him. Joly was still worried and a little upset, but he quickly forgave his companion. However, Joly insisted on doing his own, full examination of Grantaire before he would be satisfied that the man was indeed doing alright and not actually suffering from a rare, deadly side-effect of the medicine he had discovered while reading one of his medical books that morning.

The group sat in the main room together, talking and enjoying one another's company as the day wore on. Feuilly and Bossuet were added to their company shortly before night fell, Bossuet limping once more after tripping on the stairs leading up to the apartment. A few minutes later Bahorel arrived as well, staggering slightly. He explained, with slurred speech, that a friend from the tavern had challenged him to see which one could drink the most before passing out. Bahorel had one, which wasn't overly surprising, though obviously not without the alcohol affecting him ever so slightly. _It's almost like old times,_ Combeferre thought to himself as he looked around the room at his friends, _almost._

"Hey, has anyone seen Courfeyrac?" Jehan called out, interrupting his thoughts.

"Not since yesterday," Joly replied.

"Yeah, me neither," Marius piped up, "I haven't seen him since we were at the Musain." The others all said the same; no one had seen him since the day before.

"I wonder where he could be," Jehan replied, brow creasing in worry, "it's unlike him to not be with at least one of us."

"I'm sure he's fine, he's probably just drinking somewhere, or maybe he found another woman. You know how he gets," Musichetta said.

"Or maybe he went to visit Enjolras, he's not here either," added Bossuet.

"Maybe," Jehan said, unconvinced. "I think I'm going to go see if I can find him. I just want to make sure he's alright." With that, the young poet got up and walked out before the rest could argue.

"Do you think he'll be ok?" Marius asked a moment later.

"Which him are you referring to?" Bossuet replied.

"Um…well…" Marius stammered, before being interrupted by Combeferre.

"I'm sure they will all be fine. Jehan can handle himself; and he can handle Courfeyrac if it comes to that. And, just to clarify, Enjolras is fine also, he's simply busy with some work he needs to do that can't be put off.?

"Yes, I'm sure you are right Ferre," Feuilly replied. The group dissolved back into silence once more, each momentarily lost in his or her own thoughts. "Well," Feuilly added, breaking the silence, "I suppose I should head home. My boss won't be happy if I show up to work half asleep again like I did today. Good night, everybody." He gave a wave as he got up and walked out the door.

"I should be going to," Bossuet said a moment later, "this early class is killing me, so I need to get some sleep too."

"Oh, you are right about that," Marius said, quickly rising, "I better head home also."

"Marius, since you are leaving anyway, do you mind walking me home?" Eponine asked, following his movements closely.

"Oh…yes, I mean no, I don't mind," Marius replied, while a couple of the others snickered faintly.

"Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any," Musichetta said, also getting up. "Come on big guy, let's get you home before you fall asleep here," she said to Bahorel, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"S'what? I wouldn't ( _hic)_ do thas…that" he replied.

"Of course you wouldn't," she said, slightly exasperated. "But it's time to go anyway."

"But, I jus'…just gots here," he said. "Ok, we's…we'll go now," he added when he saw the expression on her face.

"Good night folks. See you all tomorrow," Musichetta called over shoulder as she guided the much larger man out the door.

"Goos night everbody," Bahorel said, laughing slightly.

"Joly, will you be alright here by yourself tonight?" Combeferre asked after everyone else had gone."

"Of course I will be, don't worry," he replied. "Go home, Ferre, get some rest. You look exhausted."

"You look like you could use some rest yourself, my friend," Combeferre answered, smiling slightly. "But thank you. Two nights away from home has kind of taken its toll on me."

"I understand. I can handle things here till morning, and I promise that _I'll_ send you a note right away if there is anything new or different." There was just a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but it went unnoticed by Combeferre.

"Thank you, Joly. You are a great friend to me, to all of us," he replied.

Joly softened a bit, "So are you, Ferre. Take care, and do get some rest."

"I will. But I think I'll stop by Enj's place on the way home to see how he's doing first. Good night, my friend." With that, Combeferre too was gone.

 _Now,_ Joly thought to himself, _let's get this place cleaned up._


	15. Musings

Grantaire, Grow Up

A/N: Hi everyone. So, I don't know what to say, other than that it's been way to long and I am so sorry for making you wait. But, I'm back now, and I have the rest of this story outlined, so (wish me luck) we should be on track to work our way through to the end. Thank you for your patience. As always, reviews are very appreciated. Enjoy!

Chapter 15: Musings

" _Hey, has anyone seen Courfeyrac?" Jehan called out…"I think I'm going to go see if I can find him. I just want to make sure he's alright." With that, the young poet got up and walked out before the rest could argue._

-o-

Jehan quickly darted off into the streets of Paris as another night fell. In his efforts to help out with Grantaire, he had not stopped to realize that so much time had passed since he last saw his best friend. The discovery that none of the rest of their friends had seen him in that length of time either made him uneasy. It was obvious to the young poet that Courfeyrac was really struggling with everything that had transpired. _I should have checked on him long before now,_ Jehan chastised himself silently as he reached a fork in the road. _Now where could he be?_

He took the fork to the left, unsure if it would lead him to his destination but deciding that continuing to move would be a better option than simply standing still. _I suppose the first place to check is his home,_ Jehan mused to himself in silence as he wandered down a narrow side street. After a few more minutes of brisk walking, Jehan found himself staring at a closed door. Courfeyrac was not at home; nor, according to the landlord, had he been home at all the last two days. Of course, this was not altogether unusual for the young man, since Courfeyrac quite frequently spent the night with one of his friends, or with someone else who could keep him company. _But this is not like those times,_ Jehan thought to himself once more, _he's not with any of us, and he's been so upset since the argument between Grantaire and Enjolras. Where can he be?_

Jehan continued to search far and wide, up one street and down another, but to no avail. Courfeyrac was not to be found at the Musain, or the Corinth, or any of the other usual hangouts, taverns, and dives Jehan associated with his friend. _It's like he's just disappeared, fallen off the face of the earth. This can't be a good sign._ Jehan's creative mind began to work against him, conjuring images of what could be happening to his best friend and what condition he might be in when found. _Stop it, Jehan,_ he scolded himself, _that isn't going to solve anything. You've managed to find him and calm him before, why should this be any different._

As he entered a small park near the center of Paris, the moon came out from behind a cloud shining brightly for the first time that evening, momentarily forcing Jehan to stop. As he looked around the moonlit park, he couldn't help but smile slightly. _This place holds a lot of memories,_ he thought to himself, _this is where Courf and I first met, and that clearing is one of Enj's favorite rallying points for his speeches. You know, I haven't seen him lately either. Perhaps Bossuet was right, and I will find Courf at Enjolras' place,_ Jehan mused, just the slightest note of desperation in his mind's voice. _It's worth trying anyway._ He took off once more, this time with a definite destination in mind, as the clouds took over the sky and shrouded the world once more in darkness.

-o-

 _"I should be going," Bossuet said, "this early class is killing me, so I need to get some sleep too."_

 _"Oh, you are right about that," Marius said, quickly rising, "I better head home also."_

 _"Marius, since you are leaving anyway, do you mind walking me home?" Eponine asked, following his movements closely._

 _"Oh…yes, I mean no, I don't mind," Marius replied, while a couple of the others snickered faintly._

The three friends ventured out of Grantaire's apartment and into the brisk night together in amiable silence. On the street corner, they said their good-byes to one another and parted ways, Bossuet heading north towards his home while Marius and Eponine trudged east. A few more moments passed in silence, until Eponine decided to speak up. "Penny for your thoughts, monsieur?"

"What?" Marius asked, stunned out of the reverie he had fallen into. His startled expression made Eponine laugh as she blushed slightly.

"What are you thinking about Marius?" she asked, watching his movements closely.

"Oh, a number of things I guess," he replied, absentmindedly picking at the cuff of his sleeve. "Mostly I was thinking about our friends." He paused and sighed as he looked around to get his bearings again, then continued down a side street he knew would take them towards the Thenardier home.

"Yeah, me too," Eponine added after a few moments. "Anything in particular?"

Marius took a sideways glance at her as they kept walking, debating what to say. After another moment, he finally shook his head at her and focused his attention back on the road, "It's stupid, and you'll just tease me for it."

"No I won't," she replied quickly, placing a hand on his elbow, "I admit I do enjoy teasing you, but I promise I won't. I just want to help." Marius contemplated it for a long while. Eponine removed her hand, figuring he had decided to stop talking altogether when he finally spoke up again.

"Whenever I'm alone, or when there isn't anything else going on, I keep going back to the other night at the Musain..."

"You mean when Enjolras told Grantaire to try and kill himself?" Eponine interjected, the spite evident in her tone. Marius shook his head again.

"Well, yes and no. It was after that. Combeferre had given everyone jobs to do – you were out searching the taverns, Courfeyrac was searching the streets, he and Joly went to Grantaire's apartment – everyone had a job to do, except me and Jehan. And then once he calmed down, he went out to search the streets too, and I was all alone. It was weird, seeing all the empty tables and chairs with everyone gone, and it got me thinking…But you'll think it's stupid, I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on Marius, please. Tell me what you were thinking about," she coaxed him, grabbing his arm again and clinging to him. Marius struggled awhile before finally giving in to her cajoling.

"Alright, fine. But remember you promised not to tease." He took another breath, glancing her way for confirmation before continuing on. "It's really two things. The first is that, I don't know, I guess I was disappointed that I couldn't do more to help. I get it, I'm younger than most of our friends and I haven't been a part of the group as long as the rest of them, but I want to do more to help. But I was left alone in the café to wait and see what everyone else came up with. Maybe I'm just getting upset for nothing, everyone was worried about Grantaire and he needed to be found, but I just felt so useless and…"

"I don't think you're useless," Eponine interrupted. "Actually, I think you are very important." She blushed again, but Marius was too lost in thought to notice.

"That's nice of you to say," he replied, "But I'm not sure the others would agree with you."

"Well, then they are all a bunch of idiots," she answered firmly. Marius chuckled at that, his features relaxing a bit.

"We should have you fill in for Enjolras sometime, your eloquence knows no bounds," Marius said, laughing slightly at his joke.

"Yeah, that'll be the day," Eponine said, laughing a bit herself. "I don't think I'm cut out for making speeches or rallying crowds. I have a different purpose in this revolution."

"Oh, what's that?"

"You'll know it when you see it," she answered cryptically. "And I think you will know your own purpose when you see it to."

"Maybe. I hope so," he said, lapsing back into silence. Eponine waited another moment or two before the silence, and curiosity, got the best of her.

"What's the other thing?"

"What?"

"The other thing. You said there were two things bothering you. What's the other one?"

"Oh. Yeah. It was the Musain."

"The Musain?" Eponine gave him a quizzical glance.

"It was empty. Completely empty. And it got me thinking. Everyone I care about is a part of this revolution. Enjolras, Courfeyrac, you…"

"Me! You care about me?" she interjected, a little more excitement coming through than she wanted.

"Well, of course!" Marius replied, chuckling again and placing a hand on her shoulder, "you're one of my best friends, even if you do tease a lot."

"Oh," she replied, much more dejected, "yeah, we're friends."

Marius also lost his brief joviality as he continued, "Mmhmm. You're my friend, the others are my friends. All of my friends are here. And we're planning on starting a war, with the rulers of France. And seeing all those empty tables and chairs got me thinking about what the price we might have to pay for this revolution will be. How many of us are going to fall in the battle? How many others will be wounded? I hated seeing the Musain empty, and I don't know what I'll do if our friends don't make it through this. I can't bear to watch my friends die."

"Oh," she replied again. Everything went silent once more. "I don't know what to say Marius. I hadn't really thought about what might happen to everyone else." _Just you,_ she added in her mind. After another pause, she continued, "Have you ever considered that maybe the revolution isn't the best idea in the world?"

"What do you mean?" He looked aghast at the suggestion.

"Well, it's just, we don't know how it'll turn out. Like Grantaire always says, our stupid leader's plan will only work if the people of Paris come when we call them to and fight with us. If it's just us, we stand no chance at all; might as well throw our lives away."

"Ok, but what's the alternative. We do nothing?" he asked, skepticism evident in his voice.

"No, not nothing," she replied quickly, stopping in the street and turning them so they stood face-to-face. "What if we chose to live our lives instead? Leave the revolution behind, move away if need be, fall in love, settle down, and just live."

"I don't know 'Ponine. Could you really do that? Leave our friends and our cause behind? I don't know if I could live like that."

"Well, I think it would depend on finding the right person to settle down with," she said, willing him to understand where she was going with this.

"Maybe," he replied, still skeptical. "That would have to be someone pretty special."

"Just, don't rule it out as a possibility, alright?" she answered after another moment of hesitation.

"You're right. It can't hurt to keep our options open, can it?" He took off down the street again, Eponine falling in step behind him.

"No, we definitely should keep _our_ options open," she said, smiling slightly to herself. Soon they had reached the street that led to her home. Not wishing to be accosted by her father, they said their good nights at the street corner, with Marius turning back around to head the other direction to his home. Eponine stood in the shadows, watching until long after the night had obscured him from view, before sighing and finally turning to go to her own home.

-o-

 _The rest of the day passed easily enough for Enjolras. He found himself alone once more._ But it's different now _, he thought to himself, I'm different now._ And with Ferre's help, I can get through this, I can figure it out. Small victories, it's how the war is won. _After refilling his cup again, he decided to settle in at his desk with paper, pen, and ink to think through and sort out his thoughts, and perhaps make a few plans._ Perhaps when Ferre comes back he can help me make sense of all of this, _he mused to himself. A soft smile spread across his face as he worked, and thoughts of a certain cynic played through the back of his mind._

If there was one thing Enjolras prided himself on, truly prided himself on, it was his ability to thoroughly think through a situation, examine all possibilities, and come to a satisfactory resolution, often the only one available. It's what made him an excellent debater and speaker, an authority that others, even men much older than himself, could look up to. It's what made him such a great student, and why his professors both loved him and hated him, depending on what he was doing. But that ability was, for the first time in his life, beginning to fail him. He could think through the possibilities easily enough, perhaps even a little too easily when certain possibilities popped into his head, but finding a solution was proving elusive. Every scenario he ran, every option he considered, all led back to a conclusion he didn't want to accept – that he could have the revolution, or he could have Grantaire, but he couldn't have both.

"Argh, this is ridiculous," he half shouted to the empty room as yet another scenario failed him. He jumped up, knocking his chair over and into the wall. It went unnoticed by the revolutionary as he began to pace back and forth in the confines of his small room. "What am I missing? There has to be a way to make this work!"

Suddenly, a soft knock came from the front door. _Good,_ he thought to himself, _Ferre is back, I can show him what I've come up with and he can tell me where I've gone wrong._ He half ran to the door and swung it open forcefully, but his disposition quickly evaporated as he saw, not Combeferre, but his next-door neighbor, Jean-Luc, standing there waiting for him.

"Hello Enjolras," the young man began, uncertainty growing as he watched his neighbor's expression falter. "I, um, heard a loud bang coming from your rooms, and I wanted to check that you were alright, especially after last night."

"Oh, well thanks, everything's fi…what do you mean, 'especially after last night?'" Enjolras let go of the door to cross his arms over his chest and stared the younger man down. Jean-Luc was a gentle soul, still in his late teens but wise beyond his years. He had a habit of knowing too much, though, which immediately put Enjolras on the defensive whenever his personal life came up in discussions.

"Well," Jean-Luc replied, shuffling his feet and looking at the floor uncomfortably, "the walls in this building are pretty thin, you know that. I may have, kind of, overheard you crying and yelling at your friend late last night. Don't worry!" he added quickly, looking up and seeing the mortified expression on the other's face, "I didn't listen to what you guys were talking about or anything like that. It's just, I could tell you were really upset about something, so when I heard you knocking things over just now I wanted to check and make sure you were ok." Jean-Luc finished with a sheepish grin that always put Enjolras at ease.

"It's ok, Jean-Luc," Enjolras replied in a much calmer tone, "And, for the record, I'm ok too, or at least I think I am. I just have a lot on my mind right now."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you are alright. Is there anything I can do to help you with the stuff that's got you frustrated?" Jean-Luc asked, trying to be polite as possible.

"Hmm," Enjolras thought for a moment before answering. "You know what, maybe there is. Why don't you come in for a bit."

"Ok!" the young man answered brightly, "I'd love to!" He quickly darted into the room and took a seat in a chair near the window as Enjolras closed the door and took the seat opposite him, after hastily covering some of his loose notes. _Don't need him reading what I've been working on,_ he thought to himself.

"What can I do to help?" Jean-Luc asked again, once they were settled.

"Well, I've been working on a problem that a friend of mine has," Enjolras began carefully, "but I have been having trouble finding a solution that will make everyone happy. In all honesty, I could use a bit of a break, or a distraction, but also some inspiration on a different way of approaching the situation."

"Ok, how can I do that for you?"

"Tell me about what's been going on with you. How is life? How are your friends? Are you in a relationship?" Enjolras hesitated just a bit on the last question, giving Jean-Luc the clue he needed.

"I am, actually," he said with a soft smile. "It's new," he added quickly, seeing the surprise in Enjolras' reaction, "so I don't really know how it's going to work out yet. But I'm hopeful."

"That's great, Jean-Luc. I'm happy for you," Enjolras said, a smile beginning on his own face, "How did you meet? Was it love at first sight or have you know each other for awhile?"

"We actually met a long time ago, back when we were kids. But then my mom and I moved away, so we didn't see each other for several years. We happened to run into each other, almost literally, in the street a few months back, and things just kind of took off. We got caught up on what we've been doing since we were kids, and reminisced about some of the stupid things we used to do that got us into trouble. And then, after awhile, our conversations got more personal, and a bit deeper, until I finally confessed that I was in love. That was two weeks ago now."

"That was it? You just said, 'I love you,' and now you're in a relationship?" Enjolras asked, incredulous.

Jean-Luc laughed at his expression, "Pretty much, yeah. That's how it works, isn't it?"

"I guess," Enjolras replied, slightly embarrassed, "I wouldn't really know."

"Oh," Jean-Luc said, quickly marshaling his features into a more serious look. "Ohhh," he said again, further comprehension dawning on him. "You're in love. For the first time?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Enjolras said to the floor, too embarrassed to meet the younger man's gaze.

"That's ok, you know. You never know when you're going to find love, or rather when it will find you. The important thing is to recognize it when it happens, and you have that going for you," he said, patting the blond's knee encouragingly.

"That's true," Enjolras said, regaining a bit of his courage.

"But?"

"But, I hurt the person I love, and now I'm afraid I've ruined my chances."

"That happened to me too," Jean-Luc said quietly, smile disappearing.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Enjolras said, afraid he'd drudged up painful memories for the younger man. "I understand if you don't want to talk about it."

"No, that's ok," Jean-Luc answered quickly, smiling slightly again, "we're past it now. I was a bit afraid to confess my love at first, you know, so things got confusing. I wanted to get closer, but then I'd get scared that I was crossing boundaries, and then I'd try to shift the blame and say it wasn't my fault. It got really messy there for a bit."

"So how did you get past it?" Enjolras asked, hanging on his friend's every word.

"I apologized," he said with a shrug, "I said I was sorry, over and over again, and I promised to be better, and I've been trying to live up to that promise ever since. It's not really a magical solution, but I think that's just how human relationships work. You fall in love and promise to love the best you can and you do the best you can and you apologize when you make mistakes. And if you both truly love each other, then you can work the rest of it out in time."

"That's…actually really smart," Enjolras said, thinking through what he'd heard.

"Well, I do get some things right, from time to time," Jean-Luc smirked.

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant," the revolutionary replied quickly, "I meant that it was helpful…"

"It's ok, Enj, I know what you meant," the young man quickly reassured him before continuing on. "So, that would be my advice to you. If you love this person, and they love you, then be honest and own up to whatever it is you did, and promise to be better from now on. And then actually be better. I don't know if that will work or not, but it worked for me, and now I couldn't be happier."

Enjolras sat in silence for a few moments. _Can it really work? Could this be my chance, is there a way for us?_ His musings were eventually interrupted by another knock at the door. _Now who's here?,_ he thought as he got up to answer it once more.

"Enj! It's so good to see you again! Is Courfeyrac here with you? I've been looking everywhere for him and I thought that maybe he came here to talk since I haven't been able to find him anywhere else," Jehan was nearly jumping up and down as his friend opened the door, and in his excitement was talking a mile a minute.

"Hello Jehan," Enjolras said when the poet finally paused to take a breath, "it's good to see you too, but I'm afraid Courfeyrac is not here. What's going on?" He motioned for his friend to come into the apartment as well while he was talking, shutting the door behind them once again.

"Hello again Jean-Luc," Jehan said as he marched through the doorway quickly and noticed the young man.

"Hello Jehan, is everything ok?" Jean-Luc asked, concern growing once more.

"I'm not sure," the poet replied truthfully, turning to Enjolras, "Courfeyrac is missing. No one has seen him since yesterday. I checked his home, all the bars and taverns and cafes that we spend time in, and he's not anywhere to be found. None of the other Amis know where he is either, and I'm starting to get worried about him."

"Why would he disappear like that? What happened?" Jean-Luc asked, standing to join the others by the door. Jehan glanced at Enjolras uncertainly, unsure how much to tell the younger man.

Enjolras decided to answer the question for him. "There was a big fight a couple of days ago between some of our friends, and it ended with one of them getting really upset and trying to take his life. It's got all of us pretty shaken up and hurt."

"Oh," was all Jean-Luc said, pensively watching Enjolras.

"Courfeyrac blames himself for it," Jehan added, "he sort of started the argument, and so he thinks the whole thing is his fault. I keep telling him that's not true, and he'll be ok for awhile, but then he'll relapse."

"Guilt and shame can be heavy burdens to bear, and they can be hard to get rid of, even when they aren't truly our burdens to bear," Jean-Luc said thoughtfully, looking between the two older men.

"I agree, Jean-Luc," Jehan said, half-admiringly and half-exasperatedly, "And that's definitely where Courfeyrac is mentally at the moment. The big issue, though, is that I don't know where he is physically."

"And you've checked everywhere? You've checked with everyone?" Enjolras asked, his own concern for his friend's well-being growing.

"Yes! Of course I have, anywhere I could think of, I've looked," Jehan said, frustration rising.

"Has there been anything else traumatic or dramatic in his life recently?" Jean-Luc asked, placing a hand on the older man's shoulder to try to calm him.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, sometimes people go back to places where they experienced trauma, to process it or grieve or…"

"The alley!" Jehan nearly shouted, startling both of the other men in the room.

"What alley?" Enjolras asked uncertainly.

Jehan's excitement level continued to rise, as did the pace at which he spoke. "Two nights ago, after what happened in the Musain, everyone split up to look for Grantaire and Courfeyrac was out searching the streets by himself so I went looking for him, but when I found him he was down this one side alley where he had discovered a dead body and he was crying and shaking because I think he thought he had found Grantaire or that that was how we would find him and I had to calm him down and tell him otherwise. That must be where he is!" Without further ado, Jehan took off at a run out of the apartment, barely pausing to wave good-bye and yell thank you to the others as he disappeared down the hall and out of sight.

"You have a lot going on right now, don't you?" Jean-Luc said after Jehan was long gone.

"Yes, I do." Enjolras nodded, grimly. "And the biggest problem is that Courfeyrac is blaming himself for something I did."

"What do you mean?" Jean-Luc asked, growing concerned once more. Enjolras turned to look him in the eye.

"Courf may have started the argument by dragging Grantaire into it, but I'm the one who yelled at him and told him he was worthless. I hurt him, I basically told him to go kill himself, and when we found him that's what he had tried to do. Joly and Combeferre were able to save him, but he's still unconscious, and it's all my fault." Enjolras tried to hold back the emotions flooding his mind. He was beginning to feel weak and lightheaded, and his throat was increasingly getting sore again, as it had earlier in the week.

"I'm so sorry Enj, truly I am. Do you think Grantaire will wake up?"

"Yes," Enjolras said, his voice quickly becoming raspy. "Joly thought he would be unconscious for a couple of days. Of course, it's now been a couple of days, so…" He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence, or even if he wanted to.

"Well, Joly knows his stuff," Jean-Luc said, trying his best to cheer the other man up, "so that means this guy will wake up soon." Enjolras gave him a quizzical look before remembering that, because he had never taken the time to get to know Grantaire, the man at the center of his thoughts now had never been to his home, and therefore had never met his neighbor. "And then," Jean-Luc continued, interrupting his thoughts, "you can apologize to him and promise to do better in the future."

Enjolras' stare grew more intense as he tried to bore into the younger man's head to see if he had figured out that the two problems they'd just discussed were one in the same. There was no way he'd admit that though, so instead he simply replied, "you're right, Jean-Luc. I just have to be patient, and then I can make this right, for all of my friends." At that he sighed, and then slumped back down in his chair, feeling far more exhausted than he should.

Jean-Luc watched him with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. When it became obvious the older man was done talking, he decided it was time to leave. "I should probably leave you be, you look like you need to get some rest Enjolras. And maybe eat something first. If it's ok with you, I'd like to stop by later and check in on you, just to see how you are doing."

"Yeah, that would be good," Enjolras said, already drifting off to sleep. "Thank you for your help, Jean-Luc."

"Anytime, Enjolras," he replied, shutting the door behind him softly as he left.


	16. Resolutions

Grantaire, Grow Up

As always, reviews are very much appreciated! We've got a few loose ends to tie up and then this should start getting much more interesting ;) Happy Reading!

Chapter 16: Resolutions

 _"The alley!" Jehan nearly shouted… "That must be where he is!" Without further ado, Jehan took off at a run out of the apartment, barely pausing to wave good-bye and yell thank you to the others as he disappeared down the hall and out of sight._

-o-

This time Jehan was absolutely convinced he would find Courfeyrac. _This has to be where he is,_ he mused as he ran through the streets of Paris, _it's the only other thing that makes any sense._ As the night grew darker, and colder, Jehan grew more concerned about what he would discover when he finally found his friend though. The possibilities ran through his head faster than his feet, each more macabre than the last. But, rather than dwell on them, he forced them from his mind and pressed on, deciding he would deal with whatever he ended up finding.

As he neared Grantaire's favorite tavern and the quiet, lonely alley that ran beside it, Jehan slowed to a walk, anxious to get to his destination but also afraid of what would be waiting for him. He paused altogether next to the building, allowing himself to catch his breath and slow his heart rate, steeling himself for what would come next. It took every ounce of willpower to resolve himself to turning the corner and seeing if Courfeyrac was in the alley. _If he's not here, I don't know what else I can do. He has to be here!_

On the run from Enjolras' apartment, Jehan had prepared himself, sort of, for what he might find. He was ready to find Courfyrac sobbing uncontrollably in the middle of the road. He was ready to find his friend injured and needing to be bandaged, or starving and in need of food. What he hadn't prepared himself for was Courfeyrac nonchalantly leaning against the wall of the tavern, near the place where he had discovered the body two nights earlier, looking completely calm and composed as he stared at the street in front of him. Jehan took a few cautious steps down the side street, wanting to get closer to his friend but afraid he might take off before he'd get the chance. He was only about 10 feet away when Courfeyrac looked up and noticed the other man approaching him.

"Hello Jehan," Courfeyrac said quietly, barely more than a whisper. He still seemed calm, but Jehan could tell instantly that there was something wrong, or something off, with his friend. He knew Courfeyrac better than anyone, it was almost instinctual, and it scared him more than any of the possibilities he'd conjured up on the way here.

"Hi Courf," he tentatively replied, "what are you doing?" Courfeyrac didn't respond. Instead, he simply turned his gaze back to the street in front of him, absentmindedly picking at the cuff of his sleeve the way Marius often did when he was nervous.

"Courf?" Jehan tried again, placing a gentle hand on the other's to stop him and get his attention. Courfeyrac looked up once more, this time gazing directly into the young man's eyes. What Jehan saw there both terrified him and broke his heart, so much so that he almost didn't register when his friend finally began speaking.

"What do you think his name was?" Courfeyrac still spoke quietly, but this time with much more intensity underlying his words.

"What?" Jehan replied, confused.

"What do you think his name was?" Courfeyrac said again, grabbing ahold of Jehan's shoulders and shaking him slightly, intent to get his point across.

"Whose name? What are you talking about?"

"The guy!" Courfeyrac half-shouted this time, letting go of Jehan and gesticulating wildly about the alley. "The dead guy! The one _I_ found when I was looking for Grantaire. What do you think his name was?" Courfeyrac said it as though his life depended on it, grabbing Jehan again and shaking him much harder this time.

"I don't know Courf, I don't know!" Jehan said, becoming increasingly terrified by what was going on. "Why do you want to know?"

"Why…Why do I want to know?" Courfeyrac let go of his friend once more and took a few steps away, incredulous at his lack of understanding. "Why don't you want to know?" He turned back to face Jehan, pointing an accusing finger at him, anger distorting his usually handsome features.

Jehan wilted underneath the gaze, taking a few steps back himself to increase the distance between them. He had pictured comforting his friend. That he could do. He wasn't sure if he could do this though. His resolution wavered as he watched Courfeyrac turn away and begin to pace back and forth across the alley.

"I should have gotten his name. It would have been the right thing to do. How could I have been so stupid to not check for his name?" He muttered, presumably to himself, though in the stillness of the night Jehan could hear every word. "And then I just left him there. I abandoned him. And I didn't even get his name. Why didn't I get his name?" This last question was directed at Jehan. Courfeyrac stopped his pacing in the middle of the street and turned to face the other man once more, crossing his arms and waiting for a response.

"Because Courf, we were worried about finding Grantaire."

"Yeah, but that's no excuse!" he expoloded once more, shouting and flailing about, "this was a guy, a person, and we left him here! And for what? Look how well it turned out, abandoning him all alone in this alley. Grantaire still tried to kill himself. You and I did nothing to stop it! We weren't there for our friend. We weren't there for this guy, we don't even know his name! Why don't we know his name?"

"You're right, Courf," Jehan said quietly.

"What do you mean? I'm right?"

"We should have gotten his name, it would have been the right thing to do." Jehan's answer, far from calming him down, only served to agitate Courfeyrac that much more. The man began pacing again, mumbling to himself quietly enough that Jehan could not make out what he was saying. Jehan eventually decided to press on regardless. "You're right, Courf. We were wrong. We shouldn't have left that man here. We should have stayed, or notified the authorities, or checked to see who he was and if he had friends nearby. We made a terrible mistake."

"And it's all my fault!" Courfeyrac wailed, falling to his knees alongside the opposite wall. "It's all my fault! I shouldn't have left him. I should have stayed. He needed me and I wasn't there for him. Why did I let him go? Why did I let him just run off? I could have stopped him, I could have stopped all of this. It's all my fault! I started that stupid argument. If I hadn't been so stupid, none of this would have happened."

The change in topic during Courfeyrac's tearful outburst did not go unnoticed by Jehan. The younger man quietly approached his friend once more, also falling to his knees in order to sit beside his friend and draw him into a close embrace.

"Shh, Courf," Jehan said into the other man's ear as he gently stroked his hair, "it's ok. We're going to be ok. Grantaire is alive and getting stronger. He should wake up anytime now, and then we'll be able to put our group back together the way it's meant to be. And I promise you, no one blames you for this. It isn't your fault."

"But it is!" Courf cried miserably into his hands, hiding his face from his friend. "It's all my fault. All of it! The man in the street that I left behind. The argument in the Musain. Grantaire trying to kill himself and Enjolras disbanding Les Amis. It's all my fault."

"No, it's not Courf," Jehan continued gently. "Our friends aren't disbanding, Grantaire is getting better, and, for the last time, that argument was not your fault. Neither was the man we found here."

"How do you know? How can you be sure that it's not my fault?" Courfeyrac unburied his face long enough to stare into the other's eyes once more. The pain and anguish Jehan saw there broke him in an entirely different way, knocking down the barriers his resolutions from long before had set up. With barely a moment's hesitation, he placed a hand on either side of Courfeyrac's head, holding him in place to keep their eye contact unbroken.

"How do I know? Because I know you, Courf. I know you better than I know anyone. You're my best friend; you're more than my best friend. I know this isn't your fault. If it was, I could never bring myself to do this…" Jehan trailed off at the end of his sentence, taking a deep breath and staring directly into Courfeyrac's eyes with all the intensity he could muster before closing his own, leaning forward slightly, cautiously, and pressing his lips against those of the man he cared about more than anything else in this world.

There was a quick, sharp intake of breath from Courfeyrac as his puzzled, distracted mind processed what was going on. After a moment or two, he relaxed and, just as cautiously, pressed forward himself, holding his breath in fear and anticipation of what might come next.

The two men stayed that way for a second or an eternity, it was hard to tell which, before slowly pulling away. Jehan opened his eyes once more and found Courfeyrac still staring directly at him, but this time with a look of confusion and excitement, all traces of the anguish from before gone. He smiled and relaxed, leaning back against the wall in a more comfortable position and pulling the older man with him, keeping him as close as possible. They sat for a few minutes in silence, trying to process what had just transpired.

"I never knew you felt that way about me," Courfeyrac said, finally breaking the stillness of the night and looking up from his resting place against Jehan's chest to see what the other man would say.

"I know you didn't," was Jehan's careful reply, looking down at a man who looked years younger than he was, insecurity and vulnerability etched in his every feature. _After all this time, don't mess this up,_ he said to himself. "But, I have felt this way about you ever since we first met. Do you remember that day?"

Courfeyrac's face broke out in his trademark lopsided grin, enthusiasm quickly returning to his speech. "Of course! How could I forget that? You were the damsel in distress and I was your knight in shining armor!" Jehan folded his arms across his chest atop the other man's head, giving a hmph of contention.

"I was not a damsel in distress. I could have taken care of myself," Jehan smirked to himself, both of them knowing there was neither mirth nor truth in what he was saying. Courfeyrac pulled the other's hands apart and repositioned himself so he could see his face better.

"Yes, you were! I rescued you from those bullies who had chased you up a tree in the park. When you came down you kissed my cheek and called me your hero. You even offered me your hand in marriage as a reward." They both chuckled at that. "I thought it was really funny and knew you were going to become my best friend instantly."

"I was being completely serious and hoped you would one day accept my proposal."

"Oh," Courfeyrac said, going silent and looking away from his friend. Jehan was patient, giving him the time he needed and absentmindedly running his fingers through the head of hair in front of him in the process. "Ohhh," Courfeyrac said after a few minutes, quickly turning to make eye contact again. "You're completely serious. You mean that you really like me."

"I am," Jehan said with a smile, "and I do," he added, gently resting his hand against Courfeyrac's cheek. "You mean everything to me. You are everything to me. I don't think I'm a damsel in distress, but you definitely _are_ my knight in shining armor."

Courfeyrac's crazy grin grew wider, a devious glint appearing in his eye. "Well then, fair maiden," he began, his voice as regal and pompous as he could muster, "your knight gives you permission to show your appreciation." He gazed longingly into the other's eyes, giggling to himself a bit as he said it.

"Of course, my liege," Jehan replied with a chuckle. There was just a moment's hesitation from both of them. Courfeyrac worried that it was still a game and he was misreading Jehan's intentions (which had happened before). Jehan worried he was moving too quickly, especially in light of all the chaos in their lives at the moment. But the moment of hesitation was fleeting, and they both simultaneously pressed against one another, locked in a much more fervent kiss than their first. All doubts were removed in that moment, and Jehan knew that he would need some new resolutions before the night was over. _But its worth it,_ he thought to himself, happiness overtaking all other emotions for the time being.

The two men finally broke apart, and Courfeyrac sighed contentedly before resting his head once more against Jehan's chest. "This is nice," he said, "actually, it's a lot more than nice, I just can't think of what it would be."

"Our flower," Jehan replied absentmindedly, closing his eyes and relaxing.

"Flower?" Courfeyrac asked, confused. Jehan opened his eyes and sat up straighter. _I didn't mean to say that out loud._

"Yeah," he answered, "it's like I told you two nights ago, sometimes the rain is needed to make the flowers grow. All of this chaos, everything that's going on right now, is the storm, but something good has already come out of it – our love, our flower, has begun to bloom."

Courfeyrac stared at the younger man intently for a moment, pondering what he had just said. Then he burst out laughing, his whole body literally shaking from it. It took him several minutes to calm back down enough to speak. "Jehan," he said, wiping the tears of joy from his eyes, "I love you to pieces, really I do. But that was perhaps the most ridiculous thing you have ever said in the entire time I've known you."

"Well," Jehan replied, feigning indignity before giving up and changing tactics. "Maybe I should give up on the verbal poetry for a moment and try something a little more physically poetic." He winked suggestively, effectively silencing Courfeyrac's laughter.

"I like that idea," he said, goofy grin returning. "But perhaps we should go somewhere a little more private." He returned the wink with one of his own, and quickly stood up, stretching out his hand to help his friend, _no, he's more than that now,_ to his feet. Jehan accepted it gratefully, and refused to let go as they turned to walk back out of the alley.

"As for the other stuff you were talking about," he said carefully once the alley was behind them, "I think I know how to find out the man's name, if you really want to know."

"Hmm," Courfeyrac answered, contemplative for a moment. "I would like that. I need to see if there is anything I can do to make amends for leaving him behind."

"Don't worry, Courf. I will do everything I can to help. I need to make up for that mistake as well. It's only right." The two continued in silence, thinking about the past, pain and failures and adventures and untold secrets, and thinking about the future, new beginnings and things to explore and secrets to share. The moon, hidden from sight by clouds since Jehan's stop in the park, reappeared, shining light into the darkness and illuminating their path home.

-o-

Enjolras awoke with a start, slightly dazed and confused and feeling very stiff. "What's going on?" he asked the air around him, noticing that his throat was once again very sore and his voice raspy. _Ow, what's happening;_ he thought that one instead of speaking aloud, _my head is pounding. Oh wait, that's not my head, that's the door._ He fumbled around a bit to get his bearings and slowly made his way towards the front door. "I'm coming," he tried to say, but it came out as nothing more than a quiet whisper. After what felt like forever, he finally made it to the door, unlocked it, and opened it to find a familiar face, and fist, right before him.

"Oh, sorry about that, I wasn't trying to hit you. I was starting to get a little worried."

"Ferre, is that you?" Enjolras rasped, blinking a few times and trying to get his vision to clear up. "What time is it?"

"I'm not really sure, maybe 10 or 11. Are you ok?" Combeferre took a moment to examine his friend, and it became obvious that he was much the worse for wear. Enjolras' clothes were disheveled, his hair was an absolute mess, and he seemed to have lost his right shoe and left sock. "Were you asleep?"

"What?" Enjolras seemed confused by the question for a moment, "Oh, yeah, I guess so. I must have fallen asleep after Jean and Jehan left." Enjolras wandered back into his apartment as he spoke so he could reclaim his seat, forcing Combeferre to shut the door and follow in order to hear what he was saying.

"Who is John-John?" Combeferre asked after grabbing a chair and sitting next to his friend.

"What?" The confusion in the room continued to increase.

"You said you fell asleep after John-John left. I don't know who that is." The two friends stared at each other for a bit, neithing understanding what the other was saying.

"Ohh," Enjolras said, smiling slightly as comprehension dawned on him, only to grimace again as his throat began to throb, "Not John-John, Jean and Jehan. Jean-Luc came over for a bit and talked, then Jehan showed up looking for Courf. Then then both left."

"That makes more sense," Combeferre said with a chuckle. "Anyway, I just stopped by to check and see how you are doing, but apparently I should have let you sleep. You're not looking too well." He couldn't tell for sure since the only light in the room was a single candle, but Enjolras looked rather flushed and perhaps even feverish, and his voice was rough enough to make his friend wince on his behalf.

"I don't know, I was fine earlier. This is new," Enjolras replied, wincing himself as he tentatively rubbed the front of his neck.

"Hmm. You sit there and rest, I'm going to go make you some tea. Maybe that'll help," Combeferre said, quickly heading to the kitchen area as he was talking. Enjolras opted to obey and rested his head against the back of the chair rather than comment. He had almost fallen asleep again when Combeferre regained his attention and placed a steaming hot cup in his hands.

"Thanks," Enjolras whispered, sipping at the tea. It was rather soothing, and slowly Enjolras' energy and fire began to return to him. As he drank, Combeferre filled him in on the day's events at Grantaire's apartment; which, other than Jehan taking off to find Courfeyrac, had been rather pleasant and uneventful. By the time he was finished, Enjolras almost looked like himself again, albeit a very disheveled version of himself, and the conversation eventually turned to what Enjolras had managed to accomplish during the day.

"I think I've come to a resolution," Enjolras said after a few moments silence. "Your advice was really helpful, Ferre, it made me think about some of the issues I hadn't considered. Jean-Luc was a help too, he gave me the courage I guess to follow through with my decision."

What have you decided?" Combeferre asked when Enjolras trailed off and went silent again. The younger man looked up and met his best friend's gaze. There was a ferocious intensity in them that Combeferre had only ever seen when Enjolras was talking about the revolution. It was both awe-inspiring and slightly terrifying to witness, and the older man knew instantly that, whatever decision Enjolras had made, there would be no talking him out of it or changing his mind. _I hope this is a good resolution,_ he thought to himself, _for all our sakes._

"My decision…is that I'm…." he stumbled a few times before taking a deep breath. "When Grantaire wakes up, I'm going to tell him. I'm going to tell him everything. I'm going to tell him how sorry I am that I hurt him and about how I feel about him and how much I like his artwork and how I want him to be a part of the revolution and how I like the feel of his skin and…" He stopped again, interrupted by Combeferre chuckling to himself. "Too much?"

"Maybe just a little," he replied, grinning, "But don't let me stop you. You're on a roll! And I'm happy for you, genuinely happy."

"But," Enjolras asked, narrowing his eyes to give his friend the patented death glare.

"But what? I didn't say but," Combeferre said, shrinking back slightly from the stare.

"There's always a but. Just tell me, I can take it," Enjolras crossed his arms across his chest and sat back in his chair some more, the picture of a man preparing himself to be punched.

"What are you going to do if Grantaire doesn't respond well to what you tell him?" The look on Enjolras' face was enough to make Combeferre want to take his words back, whatever the cost. The two sat in cold silence for a moment, until Enjolras uncrossed his arms and leaned forward.

"I won't try to make him like me back if he doesn't want to. I know I've hurt him, maybe too much for him to be able to trust me. For that matter, he probably isn't interested in me, or any other man, anyway. But he deserves to know the truth regardless, and maybe that will help him understand what happened between him and me." Enjolras said it with an air of one resigned to the death penalty. It was awe-inspiring in a different kind of way, one that was rather becoming of him.

"I'm proud of you, Enj. I think you've made a very wise choice, and I will do anything I can to support you."

"I appreciate that Ferre, more than I can say," Enjolras made eye contact again, then relaxed back into his chair and smirked, "And who knows, maybe something _more_ will end up coming of it." Combeferre outright laughed at that, the statement and the look on his face was so foreign and un-Enjolras like that he had no other choice really.

"What are you going to tell the others if that does happen?" Combeferre asked after he could regain his composure. Enjolras pondered the question a bit before answering.

"I don't know. At that point it would affect him as much as it would me. That's a decision we would need to make together." Enjolras bit his lip slightly on the last word, his eyes going slightly out of focus again. _Together,_ he thought to himself, _that's a new one for me._

Combeferre waited while his friend's mind wandered and came back. Enjolras looked back up, slightly startled by where his mind had gone, then stretched out his legs and yawned. "I think you've got a good start my friend," Combeferre said, "but for now, perhaps you would be better off if you went to sleep in your bed." Enjolras shrugged at the idea, but got up to do what he was told nonetheless.

"Alright, if you insist."

"I do."

"Fine. Good night Ferre," Enjolras said softly, squeezing his friend's arm slightly as he walked past to his bedroom.

"Good night Enjolras," Combeferre replied, waiting to make sure he made it to bed, then taking his leave, locking the door behind him and making the trek back to his own home and bed. _Ah,_ he thought to himself as he pulled the blanket over his head, _I've missed you so much, bed._


End file.
